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BANCROFT 
LIBRARY 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 


d^i^ 


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Cache  la  Poudre 

The  Romance 

of  a  Tenderfoot  in  the  Days 

of  Custer 


"  I  want  to  go  like  the  wind  "  —  Page  I  (> 


Cache  la  Poudre 


The  Romance  of  a  Tenderfoot  in 
the  Days  of  Custer 


^ 


By 
HERBERT    MYRICK 


Illustrated  from  Paintings 

By 

CHARLES  SCHREYVOGEL 

EDWARD  W.   DEMING 

and 

HENRY  FANGEL 

Also  by  many  photographs  and  numerous 
human  documents 


NEW  YORK 

ORANGE  JUDD  COMPANY 

CHICAGO 

London:     Kegan  Paul,  Trench,  Triibner  &  Co.,  Ltd. 
1905 


COPYRIGHT 

I'^O?  EY  Hehbert  MnucK 

Entered  according  to  the  act  of  Congress    in  the 

year  1905,  in  the  office  of  the  Librarian 

of  Congress  at  Washington 

All  rights  reserved 
Registered  at  Stationers'  Hall,  London,  England 


5"°i  ^  o'a. 


BANCROFT 
iJBRARY 


Foreword 

Fiction  and  fact  to  portray  real  life  and  action  during  the 
formative  period  of  one  of  the  most  interesting  sections  of  the  west. 

The  universal  language  of  brush,  pencil  and  camera  to  illustrate, 
rather  than  many  words  to  describe,  those  exciting  times. 

Supplementary  portraits  of  persons,  and  paragraphs  of  inci- 
dents, to  throw  sidelights  upon  the  feelings,  motives  and  deeds  of  the 
men  and  women  of  that  creative  era. 

In  a  word,  the  drama  of  life  in  the  new  west ! 


Lee  Moorehouse,  Photo 


Arrangement 

PROLOGUE 

At  Delmonico's  the  evening  before  the  panic  of  1873 

Part  1  — LIFE  ON  THE  PLAINS 

Scene  One      —  In  the  Arroyo 
Scene  Two     —  Gladys  and  Josselyn 

Part  II  — HATE  AND  LOVE 

Scene  One      — On  the  Round-Up 

Scene  Two     — P'rances 

Scene  Three  —  Trial  of  the  Tenderfoot 

Part  IH  — MILITARY  DEPARTMENT  OF  DAKOTA 

Scene  One      —  On  the  Trail  of  the  Indians 
Scene  .Two     — After  the  Massacre 

EPILOGUE 

At  Home  on  the  Ranch 

ADDENDA 

Supplementary  portraits  and  paragraphs 


Characters 

Jerome  B.  James,  High  minded  and  trustful,  employed  in  office  of  Jay  Gould 

Frances  Frothingham,  a  New  York  society  butterfly 

William  Upcraft,  Her  uncle,  financial  prince 

Henry  rvUdolph,  False  friend  of  James,  an  unprincipled  broker  and  man-about- 
town,  in  love  with  Frances,  later  a  frontier  desperado 

Delia  Armstrong,  Adventuress,  in  league  with  Rudolph  to  ruin  James 

Reginald  JoSSelyn,  The  Tenderfoot 

oanderSOn,  Reformed  desperado,  respected  citizen 

JMrS.  Sanderson,  His  old  mother  —  a  plain,  common  person 

Gladys  Sanderson,  His  daughter 

Osgood   Henry,  Printer's  devil  and  boy  journalist 
Buckskin  Joe,  Prospector  and  cowboy 
Amelia  Vandewark,  Prettiest  girl  in  the  city 
Shang  &  Pew,  Dutch  butchers 
H.   Stratton,  a  cultured  pioneer 

Old  1*  aithiul,      Half  breed  Indian  of  the  Sanderson  ranch 
Al  X  eterS,  Cowboy  and  broncho  buster 
GriSWold,    A  grizzled  prospector 

Herbert  Preston,  A  young  lawyer,  district  attorney 
Abner  Loomis,   Pioneer  cattle  king,  never  phased 
Captain  Mason,   Sheriff  of  Larimer  County 
Judge  Howes,   Who  presided  at  the  Tenderfoot's  trial 

Donald  Whiting,   The  New  York  lawyer,  c  hief  counsel  for  the  Tenderfoot 
Running  Deer,  A  Sloux  who  never  forgets  an  injury 

General  George  A.  Custer,  Lieutenant-colonel  Seventh  U.  S.  cavalry 
Ranchers,  cowboys,  townsmen,  teamsters,  women,  spectators,  Indians,  soldiers 


Illustration  Reference 


Cover  Design  by  Charles  Schreyvogel 

*  Folio 
Gladys:    "  I  want  to  ride  like  the  wind,"  platinum  print  from  the  painting  by 

Charles  Schreyvogel            .......  6 

Indian  maiden           ......             ...  9 

"  I'm  a  ruined  man.     And  you  did  it,  you  smooth  villain  !  "  from  the  painting  by 

Henry  Fangel.     Insert  between  folios       ....  18  and  19 

At  Delmonico's        ........  19 

Jay  Gould  (portrait)       .......  26 

On  the  Plains           .........  28 

In  the  Arroyo — "  It's  so  lonesome  here  —  all  brown  and  flat,"  in  full  color  from 

the  painting  by  E.  W.  Deming     ......  30 

In  the  Arroyo  .  .  .  .31 

Life  on  the  Plains,  head  and  tail  pieces           .....  32 

Life  on  the  Plains,  head  and  tail  pieces     ......  33 

Life  on  the  Plains,  head  and  tail  pieces           .....  34 

"  The  little  figure  trudging  townward,"  full  color     .         .  .  .  .35 

"  Greatest  chase  for  horse  thieves  in  the  history  of  jthe  west "  (chart)             .  38 

"Just  wait  till  I  get  you  on  the  round-up,"  from  the  painting 

by  E.  W.  Deming       .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .40 

Head  piece          .........  41 

"  The  first  frame  structure  ".......  43 

AI  Peters             .........  44 

Mr.  Stratton,  "  the  scholarly  looking  ranchman "               ....  49 

"  Sanderson's  getting  a  tough  lot  of  cowboys  "             .             .             .             .  50 

"  Old  Faithful  riding  gravely  by "  .  .  .53 

"  The  Indian  women  have  married  our  old  ranchers  "...  55 

Tail  piece      ..........  56 

Tail  piece            .........  57 

Buckskin  Joe,  "  and  the  famous  buckskin-colored  broncho  from  which  he 

derived  his  title  "........  59 

The  Tenderfoot        .........  63 

The  steer  is  tied              .                          .             .             .                                       .  65 

"  It  was  a  thrilling  scene,"  from  the  painting  by  E.  W.  Deming,  frontispiece    .  68 

General  view  of  the  round-up                .            .            .            .  ■          .            .  66 


Folio 

"Ginning:' 

70 

Rounding  'em  up      . 

71 

Cutting  out         ........ 

71 

One  of  the  horse  herds  ....... 

72 

Bringing  up  the  horse  cavoy            .              .             . 

72 

.  Roping  a  steer  to  inspect  brand             ..... 

73 

Throwing  the  steer  ....... 

73 

Inspecting  the  brand      .              .             .              . 

73 

Dragging  calf  from  herd      ...... 

74 

Branding  the  calf           ....... 

74 

Bunch  of  trail  cattle 

75 

Shoeing  a  broncho          .             . 

75 

Groups  of  cowboys                .             .             .             .             . 

76 

Facing  the  camera         . 

76 

Cowboys  ready  for  business              ..... 

77 

Cow  puncher's  camp      ....... 

77 

Cooking  supper  on  the  round-up     ..... 

78 

The  mess  wagon               .              ,             .              .              .             .         _    . 

78 

Supper  on  the  round-up       .             ..... 

.79 

After  supper       .             .             .             .             . 

79 

A  bull  fight  on  the  plains    ..... 

80 

Riding  a  yearling           ....... 

80 

Tired  cow  ponies  at  rest       ...... 

81 

Cow  pony  equipped  for  the  roimd-up  ..... 

81 

Bucking  bronchos     ....... 

82  and  83 

"  Concluded  the  day's  activity  with  a  mad  race  "         . 

84 

On  the  Round-up,  head  piece          ..... 

85 

"  Chuck  "  Witham           ....... 

89 

Tightening  a  cinch                ...... 

93 

Roping  a  beef  steer        .             .             .             ,             ,             . 

98 

Just  branded              ....... 

99 

Branding  a  calf               .,.,,.. 

99 

Skinning  a  beef        ....... 

99 

"  You  are  going  to  get  well,"  from  the  painting  by  Henry  Fangel    . 

102 

Stage  from  Greeley              .             .             . 

,       103 

The  colony  at  the  period  of  this  story               .     ^       ■             .       .      r 

106 

Illustration  Reference 


"  Lynching  was  not  to  be  thought  of  with  Sheriff  Mason  in  charge  of  the 
prisoner "      . 

Gladys  on  bucking  broncho  ...... 

"  I  shot  only  in  self-defense,  as  God  is  my  judge,"  from  the  painting  by 
E.  W.  Deming        ....... 

"  The  trial  was  held  in  the  grout  building  "  ,  .  .  _  . 

Branding  calf  on  the  prairie      ...... 

"  Gladys,"  he  cried,  "  how  is  it  that  you  are  here  ?  "  from  painting  by 
E.  W.  Deming  ....... 

"  Forced  their  horses  right  tlown  the  track  "    . 

The  Sioux,  "  pointing  his  long  sinewy  finger  at  Rudolph,  said  in  English, 
in  full  color,  from  painting  by  E.  W.  Deming 

On  Trail  of  the  Indians  ...... 

"  The  forbidding  desolation  of  the  Bad  Lands  "     . 

"  A  waste  beyond  description  "  ..... 

"  Filled  with  .  .  .  buttes  and  arroyos  "      . 

Fort  Abraham  Lincoln,  from  the  only  photograpli  of  it 

Indian  lodges,  or  tepees       ....... 

Rain-in-the-Face  ....... 

"  Why,  it's  Old  Faithful,  sure,"  from  the  painting  by  E.  W.  Deming     . 

Head  piece         .  . 

Osgood  ......... 

Sitting  Bull        ........ 

General  George  A.  Custer,  in  buckskin  dress  on  the  hunt 

At  Home  on  the  Ranch  ...  .  . 

Mystery  of  the  Custer  battlefield    ...... 

The  Old  Grout       ....  .  . 

Jim  Fisk  and  Ekiward  S.  Stokes  (portraits)  .... 

Finest  residence  in  Camp  Collins,  1865  .  . 

J.  S.  McClellan        . 

Andrew  Armstrong        .        '    . 

Aunty  Stone  ........ 

Abner  Loomis     ........ 

Alfalfa . 

Curley      .....  .... 


He 


Folio 

109 
113 

117 
119 
U9 

131 
136 

140 
141 
148 
149 
149 
158 
16^ 
163 
166 
167 
178 
179 
183 
183 
185 
188 
190 
193 
193 
194 
194 
198 
300 
303 


Illustration  Reference 


Acknowledgments 


Thanks  are  due  to  mahy  friends  and  correspondents 
for  notes  and  verifi(;ations,  and  especially  to  Ansel  Watrous, 
Editor  Fort  Collins  Courier;  Mr.  and  Mr«.  H.  Stratton,  to 
the  Larimer  County  Express,  Judge  Jay  H.  Boughton,  Mrs. 
Jane  T.  Budrow,  H.  J.  M.  Mattis.  In  legal  matters  James 
G.  Dunning,  Esq.,  has  been  of  much  assistance.  Author- 
ship of  the  two  cowboy  songs  quoted  is  unknown. 

The  artists  have  co-operated  with  interest  and  unselfish 
enthusiasm.  Charles  Schreyvogel,  one  of  the  foremost 
painters  of  western  life,  who  painted  Gladys  exclusively 
for  this  work,  designed  the  cover.  Edward  W.  Deming, 
the  artist  whose  Indian  and  historical  work  has  won  such 
eminence,  painted  the  series  of  plates  especially  for  this 
book,  besides  drawing  numerous  smaller  sketches. 

Lee  Moorehouse  contributed  from  his  work  as  an  inter- 
preter of  western  life,  which  reveals  new  possibilities  in  the 
camera.  D.  F.  Barry's  portraits  of  thirty  years  ago  have 
been  freely  drawn  upon.  The  cowboy  engravings  are  from 
photographs  by  W.  G.  Walker,  unless  otherwise  stated. 
The  "  bad  lands  "  photographs  are  by  F.  Jay  Haynes.  In 
the  absence  of  a  portrait  of  the  late  Sheriff  Mason,  is  used 
a  photograph  which  typifies  with  remarkable  fidelity  the 
frontier  sheriff  of  early  days,  but  which  will  be  recognized 
by  those  who  know  him  as  Captain  John  Woodward,  a  not- 
able Indian  fighter. 

Some  years  of  the  author's  boyhood  were  spent  amid 
the  scenes  in  this  book.  At  intervals  during  a  busy  life 
since  that  time,  he  has  been  collecting  unpublished  data 
about  western  life,  much  of  it  from  sources  inaccessible  to 
others,  mainly  in  connection  with  his  persistent  efforts  to 
unravel  the  enigma  of  General  Custer's  fate.  That  en- 
deavor has  resulted  in  such  complete  success  that  Herbert 
Myrick's  next  book  will  be  an  historical  work,  entitled: 
"Custer's  Last  Ride  —  A  Revelation  of  the  Mysteries  of 
Washita  and  the  Little  Big  Horn." 


Prologue 

AT  DELMONICO'S 

The  night  before 

the  panic 

of  1873 


ENRY   RUDOLPH  was  in  a 

desperate  mood  —  he  always 
was  when  he  invited  Delia 
Armstrong  to  dine  with  him  at 
Delmonico's,  and  she  knew  it. 
His  fortunes  had  been  on 
a  rapid  decline,  everything  he 
touched  in  the  market  seemed 
to  go  against  him,  no  one  would 
now  join  him  in  speculation, 
his  character  could  not  much 
longer  be  disguised  from  so- 
ciety, he  was  destined  to  become  a  pariah  up  town  as  well 
as  down  town.  To  cap  the  climax  of  his  difficulties,  he  had 
only  today  heard  it  rumored  that  Frances  Frothingham  was 
engaged  to  be  married  to  Jerome  B.  James. 

'"  Why,  James  is  only  a  boy  —  a  lamb  in  Jay  Gould's* 
office,  so  innocent  he  doesn't  know  the  dirty  work  he  is 
doing,"  Rudolph  complained  bitterly  to  himself. 

Frances  was  the  orphan  of  an  aristocratic  family.  For 
generations  this  family  had  been  prominent  in  the  financial 
and  social  circles  of  New  York.  Wealthy  in  her  own  right, 
the  moneys  of  the  Frothingham  estate  were  entrusted  to  her 
uncle,  William  Upcraft,  who  was  as  zealous  in  her  guardian- 
ship as  he  was  upright  in  his  own  dealings. 

Rudolph  had  been  sincerely  in  love  with  Frances,  ere 
the  world  had  so  calloused  his  heart  as  to  make  unworthy  the 

Note  1.  For  this  and  all  subsequent  notes,  or  explanations,  see  "  Note 
and  Comment "  at  end  of  book. 


20  PROLOGUE 

name  of  love  any  emotion  he  might  entertain.  At  first  she  had 
seemed  to  respond,  for  he  was  then  rich,  handsome,  refined,  but 
warned  by  her  uncle  and  realizing  that  Rudolph's  means  might  be 
precarious,  she  had  lightly  passed  him  by.  Now  her  engagement 
was  talked  of  to  young  James,  just  as  Rudolph  had  come  to  see 
that  the  Frothingham  wealth  and  the  prestige  Frances  would  bring  to 
him  as  his  wife,  were  among  the  things  needed  to  fully  restore  his  lost 
position. 

The  high  living  and  loose  morals  of  the  times  following  Black 
Friday^  and  preceding  the  panic  of  1873^  were  the  unmaking  of 
Rudolph.  His  career  downward  had  been  hastened  by  a  surreptitious 
intimacy  with  the  mistress  of  a  well-known  Napoleon  of  finance. 

Delia  Armstrong,  the  beautiful  daughter  of  a  Connecticut 
clergyman,  chafing  over  the  dullness  of  her  environment  like  many 
an  ambitious  young  woman  before  and  since,  had  been  flattered  by  the 
Napoleon's  *  attentions  during  a  summer  vacation  he  had  spent  in  the 
quiet  country  town.  Once  her  head  was  turned,  the  path  from  virtue 
glittered  enticingly,  and  ended  as  usual.  Rudolph  had  been  her  play- 
mate in  their  innocent  school  days,  and  was  shocked  when  he  had  first 
found  her  in  New  York,  but  her  private  knowledge  of  what  was  about 
to  occur  in  Wall  street  had  often  seemed  to  him  invaluable. 

Delia,  too,  was  concerned  because  her  master's  ardor  seemed  to 
be  cooling  more  rapidly  than  her  own  charms  were  fading.  She,  also, 
was  desperate,  and  Rudolph  knew  it. 

They  had  met  in  one  of  the  private  apartments  opening  into 
the  large  dining  hall.  They  talked  of  trifles,  as  the  soft-footed  waiters 
brought  in  and  removed  courses  which  made  dining  at  Delmonico's  so 
exquisite  to  the  epicure.  As  they  lingered  over  the  wines,  she  looked 
him  squarely  in  the  eye,  and  her  face  hardened  as  she  said,  with  just 
a  trace  of  impatience,  "  Come  now,  what  is  it  ?  " 

"  Well  to  be  frank,  my  dear  Delia,"  he  replied,  "  we  must  both 
do  something  heroic.  My  affairs  demand  it ;  I  judge  yours  do,  too, 
for  I  saw  him  riding  again  in  the  park  this  afternoon  with  Olivia." 


AT    DELMONICO'S  21 

The  shot  told,  for  Delia's  lips  parted  as  a  quick  sigh  escaped 
her.     Rudolph  went  on  : 

"  I  want  you  to  help  me  disgrace  that  young  James  somehow. 
If  we  can  bring  him  down  in  the  eyes  of  her  uncle  Upcraft,  Frances 
may  turn  against  him,  and  this  will  give  me  a  chance  at  her  again  — 
and  I  really  believe  she  still  cares  for  me  a  little,"  he  added,  with  the 
egotism  of  his  sex. 

"  Did  you  say  Upcraft  ?  "  Delia  answered  quickly,  leaning  for- 
ward, "  Bill  Upcraft,  the  man  my  Nappy  hates  the  worst  of  any  one 
in  the  street  ?  " 

"  The  same,"  Rudolph  answered,  wonderingly. 

"  Isn't  he  one  of  the  bulls  that's  been  buying  Erie  like  mad  ?  " 
she  added  on  the  instant. 

"  Yes,  he's  loaded  with  it.  They  say  he  put  all  his  own  money 
into  it,  bought  a  lot  of  it  for  the  Frothingham  estate  — " 

"  Trust  funds  ?  "  she  ejaculated. 

"  Yes,  and  what's  more,  the  old  man  is  so  confident  about  Erie 
that  he  is  believed  to  have  departed  from  his  life-time  rule  and  bought 
heavily  on  margin  besides." 

She  clapped  her  hands  excitedly.  "  I  have  it,  I  have  it.  I  see 
it  all  now,"  she  cried,  with  exulting  intuition. 

He  failed  to  comprehend. 

"  Why,  don't  you  see  ?  Upcraft  puts  all  the  confidence  in 
the  world  in  James.  That  unsophisticated  youth  —  isn't  he  just  too 
innocent  for  anything  ? — is  employed  by  Gould,  and  Jay  is  working 
him,  without  his  knowing  it,  to  tip  old  Upcraft  on  Erie  ? " 

"  Well,  I  see  that,  but  I  don't  see  how  it's  going  to  help  us,  with 
the  market  soaring  and  Upcraft  likely  to  clean  up  a  cool  hundred 
thousand  any  day,"  Rudolph  answered  spitefully. 

"  Oh,  don't  you  see,  you  poor  dear  lamb,"  Delia  responded, 
putting  her  finger  against  her  nose  and  winking  mysteriously.  Then 
she  added : 

*'  You  know  James  and  Upcraft,  of  course.  When  and  where 
could  you  see  them  tonight  ?  " 


22  PROLOGUE 

"  What  a  question,"  he  said,  rising  to  light  a  cigar,  and  open- 
ing the  door  to  peep  out  into  the  large  dining  hall.  He  shut  it 
instantly  with  feline  stealth,  turned  to  her  like  a  flash  and  whispered  : 

"  I  declare  if  they  haven't  just  come  in  there  to  dinner." 

"You  don't  mean  it,"  she  exclaimed;  then,  collecting  herself 
quickly,  uttered  sentences  like  bullets  : 

"  Nappy  told  me  this  morning  it  would  be  the  last  bull  day  on 
'change.  I  know  he's  in  league  with  Gould.  There's  going  to  be  a 
big  smash  tomorrow.     It'll  be  a  regular  panic.     Erie  will  drop  to  — " 

And  she  whispered  a  figure  that  made  his  cheek  blanch  as  she 
almost  touched  it  with  her  now  scarlet  face. 

"  Oh,  I  see,"  interrupted,  Rudolph.  "  James,  thinking  he  knew 
all  about  it,  has  been  advising  Upcraft  to  buy  Erie  until  the  old  man 
is  so  loaded  he  can't  weather  the  storm.  Nappy  will  be  in  clover  to 
'  break '  his  adversary.  I'll  make  Upcraft  believe  James  was  the  cause 
of  his  ruin,  and  that  will  complete  the  boy's  downfall.  Only  you've 
got  to  help,  and  it  will  make  you  'solid'  with  Nappy,  too." 

"  How,  tell  me  quick,"  she  panted. 

They  whisper  together,  excitedly,  ere  Rudolph  departs  through 
the  side  door. 


Just  as  Miss  Frothingham,  Upcraft  and  James  had  taken  off 
their  wraps  and  were  seating  themselves  at  a  large  table  with  four  chairs, 
Rudolph  Came  in  from  the  street,  and,  apparently  surprised  to  see  the 
party,  stopped  to  greet  them. 

"  Won't  you  dine  right  here  with  us  ;  there's  an  empty  chair," 
Frances  said  mischievously,  if  politelj^  and  Rudolph  accepted  with 
alacrity. 

This  action  nettled  James,  who,  after  the  usual  interchange  of 
compliments  with  their  unexpected  guest,  devoted  himself  assiduously 
to  Frances,  leaving  Upcraft  and  Rudolph  to  carry  on  their  conversation 
quite  alone.     The  two  men  talked  in  well-bred  modulation,  as  Rudolph 


AT    DELMONICO'S  28 

skillfully  led  up  to  the  subject  of  the  market,  and  at  length  casually 
inquired  : 

"  Erie  looks  sky-high,  doesn't  it  ?  " 

**  Not  a  bit  of  it,  sir.  That  property  is  in  splendid  condition. 
Those  of  us  who  know  the  facts  believe  it  will  advance  tremendously 
yet.  Buy  all  you  can  get  the  money  for,  young  man,"  Upcraft  assured 
with  convincing  earnestness. 

An  evil  look  appeared  in  Rudolph's  face  as  he  bent  over  and 
whispered  in  the  old  gentleman's  ear.  Upcraft  turned  pale,  the  two 
men  leaned  forward  more  closely,  getting  more  and  more  excited  in 
their  talk,  until  Upcraft,  unable  to  suppress  himself,  partly  rose  from 
the  table,  thereby  attracting  the  attention  of  Frances  and  James,  who 
now  looked  at  him  amazed  and  horror  stricken  as  he  said  hoarsely  : 

"  It's  too  late.  I'm  a  ruined  man.  And  you  did  it,  you  smooth 
villain,"  the  old  man  added,  choking  with  rage  and  pointing  his  finger 
at  James. 

Utterly  bewildered,  flushing  hotly  at  the  unjust  accusation,  his 
temper  rapidly  getting  the  better  of  him,  James  burst  out  indignantly  : 

"  What  do  you  mean,  sir  ?     Explain  yourself !  " 

"  I  mean  that  you  have  duped  me,  you  '  slick '  rascal.  You 
have  been  working  for  Gould  and  must  have  known  his  plans.  You 
knew  Erie  was  rotten,  but  you  kept  urging  me  on  to  buy.  And  I 
trusted  you  so.  Now  I  am  informed  that  it  is  all  a  bubble.  Isn't  that 
so,  Mr.  Rudolph  ?  It  will  be  pricked  in  the  morning.  My  fortune 
is  gone,  a  large  part  of  your  funds  are  also  involved,  Frances.  All  by 
trusting  that  thing  at  your  side — he's  utterly  false,"  the  old  man 
almost  shrieked,  sinking  into  his  chair. 

Frances  ran  to  his  aid. 

James  was  too  stupefied  to  speak. 

"  Can  it  be  true,  Mr.  Rudolph  ?  "  Frances  said  entreatingly, 
turning  to  him  with  a  revulsion  of  feeling  against  James. 

"  It  is  all  too  true,  Miss  Frothingham.  Gould  and  Nappy  have 
been  *  rigging  the  market'  for  weeks.  A  hundred  thousand  new 
shares  that  no  one  knew  about  have  been  issued  and  sold.^    Now  the 


24  PROLOGUE 

stock  is  to  be  pounded  twenty  points  at  the  very  opening  tomorrow. 
No  one  can  tell  where  it  will  end." 

Rudolph  spoke  with  an  intensity  that  carried  conviction. 

Frances'  face  was  a  study.  The  emotions  of  her  mind  could  be 
seen  through  it  as  in  a  mirror.  She  believed  her  uncle,  confirmed  by 
Rudolph.  Instinctively  her  first  thought  was  that  she  too  was  ruined 
—  she  who  had  never  lifted  a  finger  would  now  be  forced  to  work  or 
starve,  her  social  position  irretrievably  lost.  To  one  reared  from  birth 
to  feel  that  wealth  and  society  were  the  ne  plus  ultra  of  existence,  it 
seemed  to  Frances  as  though  the  very  well-springs  of  life  itself  had 
been  suddenly  dried  up. 

She  turned  fiercely  upon  James,  and  with  ironical  scorn, 
questioned  : 

"  Why  are  you  still  silent  ?  " 

It  was  too  much. 

"  I  decline  to  speak.  I  will  not  remain  to  be  so  utterly 
misjudged  and  so  cruelly  insulted,"  James  cried,  seizing  his  hat  and 
coat,  and,  in  hot  anger,  strode  out  through  what  he  supposed  was  the 
side  door  to  the  street. 


The  door  opened  into  Delia's  private  dining  room.  Having 
watched  the  scene  through  the  keyhole,  Delia  rose  to  the  occasion  with 
consummate  art. 

"  Why,  Mr.  James,  isn't  it  ?  I  believe  we  met  at  my  father's 
home  in  Greenwich  a  few  years  ago.  Don't  you  remember  ?  Pray  be 
seated.  You  seem  excited.  Take  a  cup  of  coffee  with  me.  Perhaps 
I  can  help  you,"  she  added  sympathetically  and  bewitchingly. 

It  was  done  with  a  charm,  a  grace,  just  a  tinge  of  abandon,  before 
which  the  coolest  of  men  might  have  succumbed.  In  the  heat  of  his 
anger,  her  manner  and  sympathy,  perfectly  attuned  to  his  mood, 
unconsciously  appealed  to  James  with  an  indefinable  power  that  soon 
banished  his  rage. 


ATDELMONICO'S  25 

Delia  was  still  a  magnificent  creature,  in  the  full  maturity  of  her 
powers  reinforced  by  ample  experience.  Yet  to  engage  him  in  conver- 
sation, to  induce  him  to  join  her  at  table  without  arousing  his  sus- 
picions, to  hypnotize  him  with  the  subtle  charms  she  knew  so  well  how 
to  employ  —  all  this  taxed  her  fascinations  to  the  utmost  and  indeed 
with  but  partial  effect.  At  last,  when  he  politely  filled  her  glass, 
before  she  could  drink,  a  spasm  convulsed  her. 

"  Help — air,"  she  gasped,  trying  to  rise,  and  half  fell  over  upon 
the  chair,  disarranging  her  dress,  and  upsetting  the  table  with  a 
harsh  clatter. 

James  sprang  to  her  aid,  tore  open  her  corsage  to  relieve  her 
lungs,  and  partly  held  her  in  his  arms,  in  a  well  meant  and  wholly 
innocent  effort  upon  his  part  to  make  her  position  more  comfortable. 


It  was  some  time  before  Mr.  Upcraft  and  Frances  could  com- 
pose themselves  after  James's  sudden  departure,  but  at  last  the  dinner 
proceeded  with  dubious  formality,  for  both  piled  Rudolph  with 
questions.  He  replied  with  rare  discretion,  so  that  as  the  service  pro- 
ceeded, they  became  more  than  ever  poisoned  against  James. 

"  And  as  I  was  saying,"  Rudolph  continued  at  last,  "  the  sad 
feature  of  these  unfortunate  incidents  is  that  too  often  financial  trickery 
is  associated  with  moral  degradation." 

Just  then  a  crash  was  heard  in  the  private  dining  room  adjoin- 
ing, waiters  rushed  in  excitedly,  leaving  the  door  wide  open.  Frances, 
Upcraft  and  Rudolph  could  not  fail  to  take  in  every  detail  of  the  scene. 

"  But  I  did  not  expect  we  should  at  once  see  such  positive  proof 
of  my  statement,"  Rudolph  added,  deprecatingly. 

"  Please  call  our  carriage,  Mr.  Rudolph,"  Frances  said  slowly, 
her  face  ashy  pale,  her  eyes  still  glued  to  the  horrid  tableau. 


It  is  needless  to  tell  here  of  the  panic  that  did  come  on  the 


26 


PROLOGUE 


morrow,  or  of  the  destruction  it  caused  to  minds  and  hearts,  as  well  as 
to  reputations  and  fortunes. 

That  evening,  a  person  faultlessly  dressed,  who  seemed  to  have 
changed  suddenly  from  a  happy  j^outh  to  a  man  borne  down  with  care, 
drove  to  the  Upcraft  mansion  and  sent  in  his  card. 

"  Miss  Frothingham  is  not  at  home,"  the  footman  said  icily, 
returning  with  the  card. 

"  Neither  am  I  at  home  any  longer  in  New  York,"  James 
mumbled  to  himself  as  he  re-entered  the  cab. 


Jay  Gould 


PART  One 

Life  on  the  Plains 

SCENE  One 

In  the  Arroyo 


"  It's  so  lonesome  here' 


tyDEfflina© 


"  It's  so  lonesome  here  —  all  brown  and  flat"  —  Page  34 


"W^w 


'iL^Jf^J 


:.*#. 


v-'b^ 


IN  THE  AfiROYO 


M' 


OTHER    SANDERSON    was 

driving  homeward  along  the 
old  Cherokee  trail  ®  in  the  new  Bain 
wagon  in  which  she  had  taken  a  load  of 
wheat  to  the  elevator.  It  had  been  a 
long,  hard  pull,  quite  like  her  life  for  these  many  years 
on  the  Colorado  ranch.  The  two  mules  were  now  walk- 
ing slowly,  whisking  off  the  flies  with  their  tails,  and  flop- 
ping first  one  ear  forward,  then  the  other,  with  that 
appearance  of  intelligence  so  becoming  the  mulish 
character. 

The  trail  here  wound  around  the  edge  of  a  small 
bluff"  in  the  prairie  that  flanked  a  little  valley  and  the 
dry  bed  of  a  stream.  There  were  no  trees  save  a  few 
cottonwoods  waving  in  the  distance  where  the  Cache  la 
Poudre'  crept  along  its  tortuous  course.  A  bunch  of 
sheep  were  grazing  miles  away.  Here  and  there,  horses 
and  some  cattle.  For  the  rest,  the  unending  prairie,  now 
brown  and  parched,  the  short  buffalo  grass  thoroughly 
"cured"  as  it  stood  —  fine  "feed"  until  spring  rains 


82 


LIFE    ON    THE    PLAINS 


£i-"^-"-''^- 


should  start  new  growth.  The  stillness  of  the  plains  was  all-pervading. 
The  sun  glared  pitilessly,  though  the  air  was  invigorating. 

At  its  slow  progress,  the  trim  wagon  barely  creaked. 

A  peculiar  sound  gradually  impressed  itself  upon  Mrs.  Sander- 
son's consciousness.  Not  sobs,  nor  yet  screams,  but  a  queer  sort  of 
moan  —  less  than  a  man's  groan,  yet  as  she  came  nearer,  it  seemed  the 
saddest  sound  that  ever  reached  her  ears. 

"  What  on  airth  mote  it  be  ?  " 

Mrs.  Sanderson  said  to  herself,  her  womanly  sympathies 
aroused.  She  was  too  experienced  a  pioneer  to  be  alarmed.  Peering 
down  into  the  arroyo,^  she  finally  caught  sight  of  a  pathetic  figure. 

A  boy,  clad  in  working  clothes,  was  lying  on  the  ground,  squirm- 
ing convulsively,  tearing  up  the  sparse  grass  roots  with  his  hands,  and 
uttering  those  sounds  of  anguish  that  had  revealed  his  presence. 

Mother  Sanderson  quietly  got  out  of  the  wagon,  and  silently 
made  her  way  down  the  bluff.  The  boy,  unaware  of  her  presence, 
now  sat  up,  wiped  his  eyes  with  the  bandage  on  his  left  hand,  and 
gazed  with  longing  rapture  upon  a  soiled  and  faded  photograph. 

"  Oh,  mother,  mother,  dear  mother,  when  ever  shall  I  see  you 
ag'in  ?  "  he  moaned  to  himself,  now  more  gently,  calmer. 

Mrs.  Sanderson  was  overcome.     The  mother  instinct  asserted 


S2.  "-j;  _      is^,) 


Q  ^Ulticininc^ 


IN    THE    ARROYO 


88 


m^'^':^ 


•r*>-'»*wo ,.  .•  •«?  ■•>- 


itself.  Her  old  figure,  her  homely  face,  blended  into  one  grand  sym- 
pathy, as  she  softly  stepped  forward  so  that  the  sun  cast  her  shadow 
where  the  lad  could  see  it,  and  holding  out  her  hands  said  with  simple 
feeling  : 

"  My  pore  b'y,  what  is  it  ?  " 

He  jumped  away,  blushing,  covered  with  confusion. 

"  I  didn't  know  anyone  was  'round.  I've  ben  tryin'  to  get 
away  from  ev'rybody.     I'm  "  — 

"  Ye  be  homesick,  pore  lad,  I  reckon,"  she  replied  sympathetic- 
ally, looking  at  him  with  heartfuU  eyes,  her  arms  still  outstretched  in 
motherly  entreaty. 

Irresistibly,  as  it  were  unconsciously  drawn,  the  boy  ran  to  her, 
she  drew  him  to  her  breast,  he  collapsed  and  almost  fainted.^ 

Not  since  her  younger  son  had  died  in  the  same  position,  years 
before,  had  she  held  a  boy  in  his  early  teens  —  that  age  just  before 
the  flush  of  manhood  which  appeals  so  powerfully  to  the  woman  in 
the  mother. 

She  stroked  his  forehead  tenderly  with  her  rough  hand.  Tears 
gathered  in  her  eyes. 

"  What  is  it,  laddie  ?  Perhaps  I  can  help  ye  a  bit,"  she 
whispered  feelingly. 

"  Oh,  no,  yer  can't,"  -he  sobbed,  but  yet  nestled  more  closely. 


84 


LIFE    ON    THE    PLAINS 


*'  I'm,  I'm  homesick.  I  want  my  mother.  I  want  to  see  the 
green  fields,  and  the  rocks  and  hills.  It's  so  lonesome  here,  all  brown 
and  flat.  Ther'  ain't  no  shore,  nor  waves,  nor  ships,  nor  trees.  I  can't 
go  swimmin'  as  I  uster  in  Maine  —  and  I  want  my  sister  —  and  —  and 
—  I  know  I'm  just  a  baby,  but  I  can't  help  it,"  and  he  burst  into 
uncontrollable  sobs  again. 

Mrs.  Sanderson,  too,  cried  gently. 

"  I  know  jest  how  ye  feel,  bobby  b'y.  Thar,  thar,  rest  aisy  and 
cry  all  yer  likes.  Thar  ain't  no  one  'round,"  she  said  warily,  almost 
fiercely. 

And  then  she  told  him  of  her  girlhood  home  back  in  Missouri, 
and  how  she  longed  to  see  it,  old  as  she  was,  "  but  I  never  shall,"  she 
sighed,  with  the  pathetic  resignation  one  so  often  discovers  in  the 
emigre. 

They  were  silent  for  a  long  time,  comforting  each  other  with- 
out words.     Then  the  boy  sat  up.     He  looked  at  her  and  smiled. 

"  You're  somethin'  like  my  mother,  only  different,"  he  said  in 
boyish  awkwardness. 

He  put  his  arms  around  her  neck,  kissed  her  rough  cheek,  then 
with  unconscious  grace  helped  her  to  rise. 


IN    THE    ARROYO 


85 


■s^:-»« 


^^'^^ 


•y.-rk:,^  „    ■  -£9  -Nj-.-V 


><i»''^  W  f  ^'/ '  "^  -  > 


"  Don't  yer  never  tell  anyone,  will  yer  ?  *'  he  said,  hesitatingly, 
as  they  reached  the  wagon. 

"  No,  nor  ye  nyther,"  she  answered,  trying  to  laugh,  and  picked 
up  the  reins. 

"  Well,  I  guess  not,"  Osgood  smiled  back,  and  turned  bravely 
toward  town,  whistling  to  keep  up  his  courage. 

Mrs.  Sanderson  drove  along  in  a  dream.  She  did  not  whistle. 
As  the  trail  went  down  a  slight  decline,  she  turned  around  and 
watched  as  long  as  she  could  see  the  little  figure  trudging  townward. 
There  was  a  wondrous  light  in  her  eyes,  but  what  a  longing  at  her  old 
heart ! 


PART  One 

Life  on  the  Plains 

SCENE  Two 

Gladys  and  Josselyn 


ijjp 


"  Greatest  chase  for  horse  thieves  in  the  history  of  the  west' 


fcc 


ho 


^^J-- 


■jivfc 


Gladys  and  Josselyn 

COMING  into  town  ^°  over  the  river  road  from  La 
Porte,  Osgood  passed  the  livery  stable,  turned  the 
corner  by  the  "  old  grout,"  "  went  across  the  street 
by  A.  K.  &  E.  B.  Yount's  banking  house,  and 
soon  reached  the  two-story  building  that  stood  by  itself 
about  half  way  between  the  old  town  and  the  new  col- 
ony —  a  mute  appeal  for  a  coming  together  of  the  old 
life  and  of  the  new  civilization. 

"  This  spacious  structure,  the  first  brick  block  in 
northern  Colorado,  towering  toward  the  skies,  entirely  the 
product  of  local  skill  and  home  industry,  ushers  in  a  new 
epoch  for  this  prosperous  community,"  was  the  way  in 
which  the  Standard  began  the  description  of  its  new 
home.  The  printing  office  occupied  the  floor  over 
Shang  &  Pew's  meat  market ;  ^^  the  other  part,  over  the 
saloon,  was  left  unfinished  "  until  such  time  as  the  grow- 
ing needs  of  the  country  require  the  space,"  was  the 
published  explanation.  A  stairway  between  the  two 
stores  completed  the  simple  affair. 

A  snug  story-and-a-half  cottage,  painted  white 
with  green  blinds,  a  garden  patch  in  front  and  some 
green  stuff  about  it  —  a  bit  of  New  England  in  the  des- 
ert ;   further  on,  *a  few  false-front,  one-story,  flat  and 


42  LIFE    ON     THE    PLAINS 

peak-roofed  shanties,  only  one  of  them  painted  ;  beyond,  the  colony's 
hall  with  a  sign  emblazoned  "  Post  Office,"  in  letters  that  were  the 
pride  of  the  new  towners  and  the  abhorrence  of  the  old  townites  ;  ^^  a 
few  houses  scattered  here  and  there  along  "  streets  "  of  ambitious  width 
staked  out  of  the  plain ;  yet  further  on,  the  water  in  an  irrigating 
ditch  ^*  shining  like  a  band  of  silver  ;  at  the  north,  a  fringe  of  cotton- 
woods,  and  then  the  wide  expanse  of  prairie,  spreading  out  in  long 
swells  in  all  directions,  arrested  at  last  on  the  west  by  the  foothills, 
tier  on  tier,  and  above  and  far  beyond  the  snow-capped  peaks  of  the 
eternal  Rockies.  Such  was  the  setting  for  the  hopes  and  joys  and 
fears  of  as  brave  and  intelligent  a  people  as  ever  undertook  to  con- 
quer a  new  country. 

"  Hullo,  Shang,"  the  boy  spoke  up  loudly,  man  fashion,  as  he 
approached  the  Dutchman  who  was  standing  in  the  doorway  of  his 
market. 

"  Wie  geht's,"  that  worthy  replied.  "  What  for  you  so  quick 
— wait  ein  minute,"  he  added,  as  the  printer's  devil  was  about  to  go 
upstairs  to  his  work,  evidently  disturbed  at  having  been  so  long  absent. 

Just  then  Partner  Pew  came  out,  fat  and  jolly,  his  face  shining 
like  a  new  bologna  sausage,  and  said  : 

"  Dat  iss  right.     Sthay  mit  us." 

But  the  boy  went  along  upstairs,  though  he  soon  appeared  at 
the  window  above.  Meanwhile  two  or  three  passers-by  stopped  to 
gossip,  the  saloon  keeper  came  out  to  his  doorway. 

*'  How  do  you  like  it  up  dere  ?  "  Pew  again  asked,  looking  up 
at  the  lad. 

"  Oh,  pretty  well,  but  I  kinder  like  the  old  place  too,"  the  boy 
answered,  indicating  with  his  hand  the  false-front  shanty  (the  first 
frame  structure  in  the  colony)  that  bore  the  sign  "  Standard  Office, 
Book  &  Job  Printing,"  as  it  does  to  this  day.  "  Yer  see  I  ain't  ust  to 
this  fine  bildin'  yet.  Have  to  poke  my  head  outer  the  winder  once 
in  a  while  to  get  *  wonted.'  " 

"  That's  jest  it,"  Al  Peters  said,  a  good-natured  cowboy,  who 


GLADYS    AND    JOSSELYN 


4)8 


had  ridden  up  on  his  broncho  from  the  postoffice,  dismounting  in 
time  to  hear  the  boy's  remark,  and  laughing  immoderately. 

"  What  yer  givin'  us  ?  "  the  youngster  snapped  back  defiantly. 

"  Guess  yer  haven't  seen  the  Express  today,  have  yer,  Os- 
good ?  "  said  Al,  still  laughing. 


"  The  first  frame  structure  " 


*'  No,  but  I  bet  Reddy  the  Blacksmith  will  say  somethin'  de- 
cent about  us  for  once  an'  about  this  great  brick  block,  just  for  the 
good  of  the  town.     He  ought  to  give  us  a  column  notice  at  least." 

"  Can  the  leopard  change  his  spots  ?  This  is  a  chilly  world, 
my  boy,"  answered  Al.  Then  drawing  from  his  pocket  a  copy  of  the 
Express,  still  damp  from  the  press  and  exhaling  the  odor  of  cheap 
ink,  Peters  said  : 

"  Here's  what  the  Express  says  about  the  Standard's  new 
office  —  three  lines,  top  of  column,  first  page.  Now  listen,  'twon't 
take  long  to  read  it : 

"  '  We  notice  Messrs. 

Shang  &  Pew  have  a  new  sign  —  a  cairs 

head  sticking  out  of  an  upstairs  window  ! '  ** 

And  as  he  read  with  great  unction,  Peters  pointed  dramati- 
cally to  the  boy  above. 


44 


LIFE    ON    THE    PLAINS 


The  laughter  that  greeted  this  sally  was  long  and  loud. 

"  Is  that  all  it  says  about  the  Standard  moving  into  this  brick 
block  ?  "  the  boy  called  down,  still  incredulous. 

"  Every  dam'  bit,"  Peters  replied  with  a  brevity  worthy  of  the 
occasion.     And  they  all  laughed  again. 

"  Guess  I'd  better  get  to  work,"  the  lad  said  in  a  brave  tone, 
but  with  a  wounded  heart,  as  he  turned  to  his  case  and  began  set- 
ting type. 


Photo  by  I,ee  Mooreliouse 
'  Al  Peters  .  .  .  '  hitched '  up  his  '  chaps '  and  adjusted  his  embroidered  riding  gloves ' 


"  Editor  McClellan  ^^  can  hit  'em  off  pretty  slick  when  he's  a 
mind  to,"  commented  the  saloon  keeper,  "  but  why  did  the  kid  call 
him  *  Reddy  the  Blacksmith '  ?  " 

"  Well,  you  see  Mac  is  red-headed  and  the  boy  thinks  he's  a 


GLADYS    AND    JOSSELYN  45 

poor  printer,  so  the  Standard  coined  that  nickname,"  said  a  scholarly 
looking  ranchman  who  had  arrived  in  time  to  take  in  the  whole 
scene.  "  But  I  do  think,"  Mr.  Stratton  added,  "  that  Mac  keeps  a 
little  more  than  even  with  the  parson-editor  of  the  Standard,  for  last 
week,  referring  to  the  parson's  church,  the  Express  remarked  : 

"'We  note  with 

pleasure  that  the  congregation  at  the 
Unitarian  church  is  growing  smaller  by  degrees 
and  beautifully  less  ! '  " 

"  Sure  that's  a  side  winder,"  Andy  Armstrong,  a  pugnacious 
Irishman,^*'  burst  out,  laughing,  in  which  they  all  joined. 

"  Wa'al,  fact  is,  preachin'  must  be  pore  bizniss  in  this  yer  ken- 
try,"  Al  Peters  philosophized.  "  Yer  see  most  of  us  cowboys,  instead 
of  rising  to  heaven,  would  rather  raise  hell  ! " 

"  You  bet,"  spoke  up  Griswold,  an  old  prospector  who  had 
joined  the  group  a  few  minutes  before,  after  tying  his  burro  to  the 
railing  provided  for  the  purpose  in  front  of  the  sidewalk.  His  pa- 
tient beast  bore  the  customary  prospector's  outfit  on  its  packsaddle — 
a  bag  of  flour,  a  frying  pan  and  coffee  pot,  a  few  miner's  tools  and  a 
pan  for  washing  gold  from  sand,  and  several  nondescript  parcels  that 
might  have  been  ore  samples,  or  coffee,  sugar,  baking  powder  or 
bacon,  and  —  an  old  fiddle. 

"  Be  careful,  boys,  here  come  the  Vandewark  girls,"  cautioned 
Mr.  Stratton,  fearing  that  the  conversation  might  take  a  broad  turn. 

Two  girls,  one  about  sixteen,  a  beautiful  blonde,  the  other  a 
brunette  of  perhaps  eighteen,  with  sparkling  eyes,  red  cheeks  and 
elastic  carriage,  bespeaking  an  exuberance  of  health,  now  approached, 
and,  bowing  modestly  to  the  group,  who  responded  with  exaggerated 
politeness,  turned  into  the  market,  followed  obsequiously  by  both  the 
marketmen. 

"  Gosh,  ain't  they  pretty  as  a  spotted  mule,"  Peters  said  admir- 
ingly, under  his  breath,  as  the  young  women  disappeared  through 
the  doorway. 


46  LIFEONTHEPLAINS 

"  You  bet,"  volunteered  Griswold,  whose  vocabulary  seemed 
to  be  limited  to  that  expression. 

"  Prettier'n  a  speckled  hen,"  was  the  remark  of  a  bystander 
not  previously  heard  from. 

"  More  women  in  these  parts  than  there  used  to  be,"  Mr.  Strat- 
ton  went  on  to  say.  "  When  I  came  out  in  '67,  Aunty  Stone  ^  was  the 
only  white  woman  in  the  Fort  and  my  wife  was  the  second.  The 
officers  used  to  give  a  dance  occasionally  to  which  people  would  come 
forty  miles  or  more.  Two  nice  girls,  chaperoned  by  a  married  lady, 
came  up  from  Denver  to  a  dance  and  liked  it  so  well  they  stayed  four 
weeks  (with  only  such  change  of  raiment  as  wife  or  Aunty  Stone 
could  spare),  and  before  their  return  were  engaged  to  be  married  to 
two  young  officers.     Oh,  those  were  the  good  old  times." 

While  this  reminiscing  was  under  way,  Osgood,  who  had  come 
downstairs  carrying  two  water  pails,  seating  himself  on  the  doorstep, 
slowly  removed  the  bandage  from  his  left  hand,  exposing  an  ugly 
wound  that  was  almost  healed,  upon  which  he  was  carefully  pouring 
a  little  water,  as  the  young  ladies  came  out  of  the  market. 

"  Oh,  good  evening,  Osgood,  how's  your  hand  today  ?  "  Amelia 
asked,  while  the  other  looked  on  sympathetically  and  inquired : 

"  Just  how  did  you  do  it  ?  " 

"  Why,  it  was  two  weeks  ago.  I  was  cleanin'  up  our  old 
Washington  printin'  press,  my  hand  was  against  ther  upright,  so 
(illustrating),  when  the  pressman,  not  noticin',  slapped  the  bed 
against  it  kerwhack,  so.  Almost  tore  out  two  fingers.  Ther  wa'n't  no 
doctor  'round,  but  Dad  yanked  them  fingers  into  place,  splinted  a 
shingle  onto  each  side,  and  made  me  keep  my  ban'  in  er  pail  uf  water 
two  weeks.     He  had  to  fetch  ther  water,  too,"  the  boy  added."* 

The  girls  expressed  their  concern  in  the  feminine  way  that  has 
been  balm  to  many  an  injured  boy  and  man  before  and  since,  and 
passed  on,  while  Andy  closely  inspected  the  hand  and  pronounced  the 
cure  "  a  better  job'n  half  the  doctors  o'  Denver  could  hev  done !  " 

"Those  are  two  fine  girls,"  Mr.  Stratton  spoke  up,  indicating 
with  his  eyes  the  two  young  ladies,  who  were  now  out  of  earshot. 


GLADYS    AND    JOSSELYN  47 

"  But  it's  nothing  against  them  to  say  I  think  Gladys  Sanderson  is  the 
handsomest  girl  in  Larimer  county  !  " 

"  You  bet,"  enthusiastically  roared  old  Griswold,  now  beginning 
to  feel  the  effects  of  several  potations  at  the  bar. 

"  You're  right,  pardner,"  said  Peters,  "  and  every  cowboy  knows 
it,  too.  But  we  fellers  ain't  got  no  chanst  thar  since  that  Tenderfoot " 
showed  up.  I  jest  believe  Gladys  is  '  gone '  on  him.  He's  the  kind  of 
a  cuss  the  wimmen  tie  to  anyhow." 

"  It  bates  all  how  auld  mon  Sanderson  sames  to  hate  the  feller," 
Andy  suggested.  "  It'll  go  bad  for  the  Tenderfoot  if  the  auld  mon 
raly  gits  down  on  'im  'ard.  None  of  us  old  settlers  want  Sanderson 
for  an  enemy.     We  know  'im  of  old." 

"  And  it  isn't  healthy  to  speak  much  about  his  past  or  that  of 
some  others  of  our  fii-st  citizens,"  was  boldly  but  cautiously  remarked 
by  a  young  lawyer,  Herbert  Preston.  "  It  is  no  secret  that  he  used  to 
be  a  terrible  drinker,  couldn't  control  his  temper  when  intoxicated,  and 
used  to  vent  it  on  his  women  folks.  Guess  that  was  what  killed  his 
wife  so  soon  after  Gladys  was  born.  She's  grown  up  out  there  at  the 
ranch  as  free  as  the  air  she  breathes,  though  grandmother  Sanderson 
always  took  good  care  of  her.  The  old  lady  once  confided  to  me  that 
she  felt  safe  as  long  as  Sanderson  kept  sober,  as  he  has  for  many  years, 
but  if  he  ever  goes  on  a  '  tare '  again  she's  afraid  he  will  kill  both  Gladys 
and  herself.  Yet  he  is  mighty  good  and  kind  to  them  when  he's  all 
right,  and  loves  Gladys  more  than  life.  He  hopes  to  see  her  marry 
way  up  in  society." 

The  effect  of  this  speech  was  peculiar.  Each  member  of  the 
group  acted  as  though  hardly  daring  to  pursue  the  subject,  yet 
intensely  interested.     Looking  around  cautiously,  Mr.  Stratton  said  : 

"  Well,  to  be  frank,  I'm  afraid  there's  going  to  be  trouble  out 
at  Sanderson's.  You  know  the  old  man  and  Josselyn,  his  tenderfoot 
cowboy,  have  just  got  back  from  that  chase  for  horse  thieves.  It  was 
a  great  feat,  and  some  of  his  old  cronies  are  trying  to  get  Sanderson  to 
*  celebrate '  with  an  old-fashioned  debauch  at  the  *  Red  Indian,'  "  point- 
ing to  a  disreputable  appearing  saloon  in  the  distance.     "  If  he  does, 


48  LIFE    ON     THE    PLAINS 

I  wouldn't  give  much  for  the  lives  of  Josselyn  or  those  women  on  the 
ranch.  Sanderson  hasn't  been  right  since  his  return,  and  seems  to  hate 
the  Tenderfoot  worse  than  ever,  although  the  boy  has  proved  himself 
more  than  a  match  for  the  old  jnan  in  endurance  and  tenacity." 

Al  Peters  now  spoke  up  with  earnest  sincerity  : 

"  That  Tenderfoot  over  to  the  Cache  la  Poudre  ranch  ain't  no 
*  maverick.'  *  He's  got  a  name  that  fits  a  woman  —  Reginald  Josselyn 
—  better  than  it  does  a  cowboy,  and  parts  his  hair  in  the  middle,  but 
by  gad  he's  a  gentleman  !  He  can  ride  any  broncho  and  rope  any 
steer  that  stands  on  four  legs. 

"  He  ain't  no  blamed  fool  either.  Why,  in  the  blizzard  last 
winter  —  worst  we've  had  since  Mariana  ^^  settled  up  this  country  — 
some  of  the  old  cowboys  got  lost  and  froze  to  death.  But  Josselyn 
bunched  his  cattle  up  clost  in  the  corner  of  that  new  fence  on  Lone 
Tree  Crick,  killed  a  cow  that  was  in  ther  center  of  the  bunch,  ripped 
her  open,  pulled  out  her  guts,  and  crawled  inside.  The  carcass,  and 
ther  warmth  of  the  cattle  pressing  against  it,  kept  him  alive."  ^ 

"  You  bet,"  admiringly  ejaculated  Griswold. 

"  I  'spose  he'll  alius  be  called  the  Tenderfoot,  somehow  he's  so 
ladylike,  and  citified,  too,"  continued  Peters,  "  but  didn't  he  prove  him- 
self a  plainsman,  though,  in  chasing  them  boss  thieves  ?  " 

"  Tell  us  about  it,"  said  Osgood,  coming  back  with  two  pailfuls 
of  water  from  the  ditch  that  served  not  only  to  irrigate  the  land  but 
as  a  source  of  water  for  household  purposes.  "  He  only  got  back  last 
week,  we  had  the  story  in  the  Standard  yesterday,  but  p'raps  you  can 
tell  us  somethin'  new  about  it." 

"  Go  ahead,  Al,"  they  all  cried. 

"  Yer  know  old  Sanderson  took  his  fambly  up  into  North  Park 


*  "  Maverick  "  is  sometimes  applied  derisively  term  may  also   be   applied   to  something  dis- 

to  a  person,  indicating  that  he  is  not  competent  honestly  got,  as  "  he  mavericked  that  piece  of 

to  take  care  of  himself,  but  should  still  be  fos-  land."     "  To  be  mavericked,"  in  the  sense  used 

tered  at  home.     Ordinarily,  it  means  a  calf  or  in  the  song  on  page  92,  is  to  be  cared  for  lov- 

older  animal  without  any  brand,  which  is  appro-  ingly  as  a  mother  cares  for  her  child,  or,  more 

priated  by  the  owner  of  the  range  where  found,  coarsely,  as  the  dam  cares  for   her  calf.     The 

or  is  sold  for  the  benefit  of  the  round-up.     The  word   is   an   unique   addition  to  the  language. 


GLADYS    AND    JOSSELYN  49 

in  August  for  a  sort  of  picinic,  leavin'  Josselyn  in  charge  of  the  ranch 
with  a  couple  of  *  greasers '  ^  to  help  'im.  Very  nex'  mornin'  ther 
Tenderfoot  discivers  them  greasers  had  lit  out  with  ther  Arab  mare 
and  bay  hlly,  jest  the  two  beasts  old  Sanderson  loves  mor'n  anything 
in  this  yer  world,  'cept  Gladys.  Wa'll,  Josselyn  acts  quicker'n  light- 
nin'.  Writes  a  note,  sticks  it  in  dog's  collar,  sends  dog  on  trail  up 
to  Sanderson's  camp,  and  gives  the  alarm  all  up  and  down  ther  valley. 
"  Cur'us  how  fast  news  of  a  boss  stealin'  will  travel  !  There 
ain't  no  boss  thief  slick  enough  to  leave  no  trace,  for  ranchers  watch 
strange  bosses  an'  onusual  men  jest  as  sailors  observe  a  ship  at  sea. 


Mr.  Stratton,  "  the  scholarly  looking  ranchman  " 

"Wa'll,  Sanderson  comes  ridin'  down  from  ther  mountains, 
with  a  face  on  him  like  Grant's  before  Vicksburg.  Josselyn  is  ready 
and  insists  on  goin',  and  they  start  out  after  them  boss  thieves.  Ther 
first  warmth  they  git  to  ther  trail  is  way  out  on  the  Three  Buttes. 
They  follers  it  down  the  Platte  into  Nebrasky,  turns  on  ther  trail  up 
the  Arickaree,  follers  it  down  La  Junta  way,  and  over  into  New  Mexico." 


50 


LIFE    ON     THE    PLAINS 


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"  Sanderson's  getting  a  tough  lot  of  cowboys  "  —  Page  51 


While  Peters  had  been  talking,  he  unconsciously  "  hitched  " 
up  his  quite  imposing  "  chaps  "  and  adjusted  his  embroidered  riding 
gloves,  for  he  possessed  rather  more  vanity  than  the  average  cowboy. 
But  he  continued  : 

"  How  them  two  fellers  could  trace  that  outfit  acrost  ther  bad 
lands  of  that  greaser  kentry  beats  me,  but  they  kep  at  it  until  they 
com  to  whar  the  thieves  had  forded  ther  Rio  Grandee  only  the  day 
before.  Old  Sanderson  wa'n't  no  man  to  stop  at  no  bound'ry  line, 
but  pushes  right  along  day  an'  night. 

"  Now  them  theefs  must  hav  thot  they  was  all  right,  being 
over  ther  line,  and  not  knowin'  their  pursuers  was  so  clost,  fur  they 
built  a  camp  fire  to  warm  theirselves  by  at  night.  It  was  moonlight, 
and  ther  smoke  risin'  in  the  still  air  was  as  good  a  guide  to  their  camp 
as  a  lighthouse  is  to  a  sailor.  The  fust  thing  them  theefs  know'd,  was 
that  they  was  woke  up  to  look  into  two  Winchesters." 


GLADYS    AND    JOSSELYN  51 

"That's  the  way  we  heard  it,"  said  Osgood,  "  but  how  about 
the  return  ?  " 

"  Of  course  them  fellers  know'd  that  they  wud  be  strung  up  at 
ther  furst  settlement  they  kem  to  on  their  way  back.'^  Their  ban's 
was  tied  behin'  and  they  rode  ahead,  but  seein'  one  of  them  windin' 
arroyas  in  which  it  is  so  easy  to  lose  sight  of  a  steer,  they  started  up 
their  bosses  and  tried  to  git  away.  Josselyn  plunked  one  of  'em  thru 
ther  head,  but  Sanderson  missed  his  man,  who  wud  hev  got  away  if 
Josselyn  hedn't  put  a  bullet  through  him  lengthwise  as  he  was  leanin' 
over  ther  boss.  They  caught  the  bosses,  dumped  the  corpses  off  and 
left  'em  to  the  buzzards,  and  then  rode  home  as  straight  and  quick 
as  they  could." 

"  Yes,  over  a  thousand  miles  they  followed  those  thieves,** 
remarked  Mr.  Stratton.  "  The  Rocky  Mountain  News  was  right  in 
calling  it  the  '  greatest  chase  for  horse  thieves  in  the  history  of  the 
west.'  But  I  imagine  Sanderson  felt  awfully  to  miss  his  aim.  It's 
the  first  time  he  ever  failed  to  kill  a  man  he  had  the  drop  on." 

The  conversation  then  turned  upon  the  number  of  cattle  and 
horses  Sanderson  was  reputed  to  have,  and  Peters  remarked  : 

"  He  must  hev  5000  head  of  his  own.  Abner  Loomis  hez  4000 
and  Sanderson  beats  him.  Yer  know  all  them  big  stockmen  hez  been 
plannin'  to  make  the  round-up  next  week  the  biggest  thing  ever  seed 
in  these  parts.  It's  to  start  at  Cal-wyle's  on  ther  Little  Thompson, 
they's  to  choose  ther  own  officers,  ther  commissioners  ain't  no  part  in 
it,  an'  there  will  be  rough  times  out  thar." 

"  Yes,  the  cowboys  will  be  a  law  to  themselves  sure,"  responded 
Mr.  Stratton.  "  I  hear  Sanderson's  getting  a  tough  lot  of  them  to 
work  for  him.  Wonder  if  it  means  mischief  for  Josselyn.  1  guess 
it  will  be  the  last  big  round-up  this  country  will  see.  The  valley  is 
settling  up  fast  now.  My  place  out  on  the  bluff  proves  that  this 
prairie  only  needs  water  to  make  it  blossom  like  the  rose,  and  the 
range  cattle  business  must  give  way  to  intensive  farming."  ^^ 

"  If  the  Indians  don't  interfere,"  Osgood  interjected. 

*'  You  won't  see  any  more  Indians  in  these  parts.  We  had  a 
bad  scare  in  '68  when  the  folks  skipped  out  for  Denver  on  an  instant's 


52  LIFE    ON    THE    PLAINS 

notice,  the  women  not  even  stopping  for  bonnets.  But  these  Indians 
around  here  are  all  right.  The  Indian  women  have  married  our  old 
ranchers,  and  the  bucks  have  settled  down.  Why,  there's  Old  Faith- 
ful [pointing  to  an  Indian  riding  gravely  by  on  his  pony],  the  half 
breed  from  the  Cache  la  Poudre  ranch.  I'd  trust  him  anywhere. 
He  usually  shows  up  when  the  old  man  or  Gladys  is  coming  to  town. 
He  takes  great  care  of  that  girl.  She  saved  his  life  once  at  the  risk 
of  her  own,  and  an  Indian  never  forgets." 

"  Lots  of  them  pesky  Soos  [Sioux]  up  Black  Hills  way,"  now 
spoke  Griswold,  who,  though  by  this  time  tolerably  drunk,  always  had 
his  wits  about  him.  So  long  a  sentence  from  the  man  of  two  words 
quite  turned  attention  to  the  region  referred  to.  An  animated  dis- 
cussion followed  as  to  the  probabilities  of  the  Sioux  being  removed 
and  the  Black  Hills  country  opened  up  for  prospecting  or  settlement. 
Griswold  was  at  home  on  these  subjects,  and  said  : 

"  You  bet  Buckskin  Joe  and  his  pardner  will  strike  it  rich  if 
they  ever  git  there  alive.  I  know  there's  barrels  of  gold  in  Deadwood 
gulch,  but  I  bet  Joe's  outfit  will  be  scalped  by  them  Soos,  same  as 
everybody  has  been  who's  tried  it." 

Shang  now  came  out  of  the  market  dressed  in  his  Sunday  best. 
He  was  a  thing  of  beauty  and  a  joy  forever,  with  a  swell  shirt  front, 
a  gaudy  red  necktie,  his  coat  on  his  arm,  a  clean  shave  and  with  a 
luster  to  his  jolly  face  that  matched  the  shine  on  his  shoes. 

"  Goin*  to  see  yer  gal,  Shang,  I  reckon,"  said  an  individual 
accompanied  by  several  thin  and  mangy  dogs  as  poor  and  unthrifty  in 
appearance  as  himself —  "  Col."  Sartor  from  Alabama,  a  rare  type 
in  this  thrifty  community. 

All  manner  of  fun  was  being  poked  at  Shang,  until  Pew  sud- 
denly turned  to  the  boy  who  was  still  sitting  on  the  doorstep  with 
his  pails  of  water,  and  said  : 

"  Osgood,  I'll  give  yer  zwei  bits  to  trow  dat  pail  of  water  on 
Shang's  '  biled  shirt.'  " 

No  sooner  said  than  done  ! 

With  a  laughing  oath,  the  amazed  Shang,  now  wet  and  bedrag- 


GLADYS    AND    JOSSELYN  53 

gled,  jumped  for  the  boy,  stuck  him  head  first  in  the  other  pail  of 

water,  which  was  tipped  over,  and  then  rolled  him  into  the  pool. 

How  they  all  roared,  as  the  boy  picked  himself  up,  collected  his  two 

bits  and  went  off  again  toward  the  ditch  to  replenish  his  pails. 

Col.  Sartor  and  his  dogs  also  passed  on,  and  looking  after  them, 

Mr.  Stratton,  speaking  oracularly,  like  the  thrifty  farmer  he  was, 

remarked : 

"  A  poor  man  for  dogs,  a  rich  man  for  hogs." 

Mr.   Pew  was    moved   to  say  :     "  You've  got   to  go  to  Bill 

Eaton's  down  to  Greeley,"*  to  find  fat  hogs  —  he  feeds  'em  well."     To 

which  Mr.  Stratton  added,  philosophically : 


"  Old  Faithful  riding  gravely  by  " 

"  A  fat  pig  never  squeals  around  a  lean  corn  crib." 
"  There  don't  seem  to  be  many  grasshoppers  flying  today,"  a 
ranchman  suggested,  looking  skyward  anxiously,  to  see  if  he  could 
detect  them  against  the  sun.  "  It's  just  awful  the  way  they've  been 
flying  lately.  The  clouds  of  locusts  were  so  thick  yesterday  they 
fairly  obscured  the  sun.  Over  on  Box  Elder,  the  grasshoppers  ate  off 
the  wheat  heads  on  several  ranches  in  less  than  two  hours.  I  tell  you 
it's  tough.  Why,  up  the  valley  a  piece,  the  'hoppers  have  simply 
cleaned  out  everything,  and  to  keep  from  starving,  people  were  re- 
duced to  eating  the  grasshoppers.  Now  they're  letting  the  chickens 
feed  on  the  'hoppers,  and  they're  eating  the  chickens." 


54  LIFE    ON    THE    PLAINS 

"  Let's  hope  the  'hoppers  won't  be  such  a  plague  as  they  were 
last  year,"  said  Mr.  Stratton.  "  Why,  they  ate  every  living  thing, 
would  be  two  or  three  inches  deep  on  the  sunny  side  ot  your  house. 
The  heat  of  their  bodies  and  the  stink  made  it  almost  impossible  to 
sleep  those  hot  nights.  Down  at  Greeley  the  people  were  compelled 
to  dry  the  locusts  and  grind  them  into  meal  from  which  to  make 
bread." 

Just  then  Osgood,  with  his  pails  full  of  water,  came  rushing 
back,  greatly  excited,  and  cried  out : 

"  Buckskin  Joe  is  almost  here,  I  saw  his  broncho  out  on  the 
prairie.     He's  alone  !  " 

This  statement  created  a  sensation.  It  quickly  became  known 
throughout  the  little  community.  By  the  time  Joe  rode  into  town, 
quite  a  crowd  had  gathered  in  front  of  the  Standard  office  to  wel- 
come him. 

Both  horse  and  rider  showed  evidences  of  rough  treatment. 
Joe's  usually  immaculate  suit  of  buckskin  was  worn  to  a  frazzle,  he 
was  himself  reduced  almost  to  a  skeleton,  his  customarily  smooth  face 
covered  with  a  shaggy,  unkempt  beard,  but  the  glow  of  victory  was 
in  his  eye  and  mastery  in  his  demeanor  as  he  gracefully  dismounted 
from  the  famous  buckskin-colored  broncho  from  which  he  derived 
his  title. 

"  Where  yer  bin  ?  Did  yer  strike  it  ?  Where's  Hutchins  ?  " 
and  a  lot  more  questions  were  fired  at  him  by  the  excited  crowd  who 
pressed  around  him. 

"  Take  somethin',  boys,"  was  his  reply,  stepping  up  to  the  bar. 
A  second  invitation  was  not  necessary. 

"  Never  mind  the  change,"  said  Joe,  as  he  paid  the  barkeeper 
with  a  bit  of  gold  dust  that  he  emptied  on  the  bar  from  a  small  bag 
he  had  taken  from  his  pocket. 

The  men  were  at  first  too  astonished  to  speak,  as  they  gazed 
at  the  gold  dust  and  realized  that  there  must  be  plenty  more  where 
it  came  from.  The  change  that  came  over  their  faces  was  a  study. 
The  light  of  friendship  in  their  eyes  changed  to  the  glitter  of  lust  for 


Lee  Moorehouse,  Photo 
"  The  Indian  women  have  married  our  old  ranchers  "  —  Page  52 


56  LIFE    ON    THE    PLAINS 

gold.  The  dullest  intellect  became  keen.  Activity  of  thought,  readi- 
ness for  motion,  was  the  characteristic  of  every  attitude,  as  they  plied 
Joe  with  questions. 

"  Black  Hills,  Deadwood  gulch.  Lots  of  it  there,"  he  replied 
with  his  usual  economy  of  language. 

"  Where's  Fred  Hutchins  ?  " 

"  Indians.  Ambush.  Wounded  Fred.  Died  afterward.  But 
they  suffered  for  it." 

He  threw  open  his  buckskin  coat,  revealing  three  dried  scalps 
suspended  from  his  belt  by  their  long  black  hair. 

The  news  spread  like  wildfire.  Soon  all  was  excitement.  Al- 
though it  was  evening,  some  hurried  home,  hitched  their  mules  into 
the  farm  wagon,  or  perhaps  the  old  emigrant  wagon  in  which  they 
had  arrived  at  the  fort,  bundled  in  their  outfits,  and  before  midnight 
had  started  on  the  long  journey  (nearly  300  miles)  to  the  Black  Hills 
—  the  fabled  land  of  gold,  the  real  land  of  Indians.  Some  men  took 
their  women  and  children  along,  with  less  ado  than  the  easterner 
makes  in  taking  his  family  a  couple  of  miles  to  town. 

Catching  the  full  import  of  the  situation,  Osgood  said  to  Mr. 
Stratton  :  "  I'm  going  to  get  Dad  to  go  with  the  rush,  and  start 
ther  first  paper  in  the  Black  Hills,"  and  he  disappeared  upstairs. 
The  crowd  meanwhile  was  coming  and  going,  the  drinking  became 
heavier  as  the  excitement  increased,  until  several  cried  out : 

"  Here  comes  Sanderson  ! " 

A  man  of  about  sixty  years  walked  up,  with  the  mien  of  one 
unruffled  by  surprises  or  dangers.  He  was  short  and  spare,  with  a 
dark  beard,  fierce  eyes,  cruel  mouth  —  altogether  a  face  that  was 
a  study  for  an  artist.  It  was  furrowed  deeply  with  lines  of  care,  and 
still  showed  traces  of  the  dissipation  of  earlier  life,  while  bronzed  and 


m 

i 

'^^'^^^^ 

.  3 

--<* 

W^'^ 

mm 

^^j^'^ISkiWsIL 

GLADYS    AND    JOSSELYN  57 

roughened  by  forty  years'  exposure  on  the  frontier.  He  was  greeted 
with  deference  by  the  crowd,  and  though  unmoved  by  the  news  of 
the  gold  strike,  flushed  with  pride  as  one  man  sang  out : 

"  Let's  drink  to  the  hero  of  the  greatest  chase  for  horse  thieves 
in  the  history  of  the  west." 

As  the  glasses  tinkled.  Buckskin  Joe's  voice  could  be  heard, 
"  Set  'em  up  again,"  for  he  was  still  paying  for  the  drinks  of  all  who 
would  join  in  the  carousal.  "  Come  in  and  join  us,  Sanderson,"  Joe's 
voice  now  called  in  insistent  tones,  and  the  rancher  was  led  and 
pushed  in  to  the  beginning  of  his  fate. 

Osgood  came  down  the  stairs  just  then,  with  a  dejected  air, 
and  complained  to  Mr.  Stratton  :  "  Dad  won't  go.  He  said  he 
couldn't  leave  town  unless  he  paid  ther  mortgage  on  our  outfit,  for 
which  old  Yount  is  stickin'  us  three  per  cent  a  month.^  1  told  him 
ther  mortgage  will  be  no  good  as  soon  as  we  got  over  ther  line  into 
Wyomin',  an'  that  as  ther  sheriff  and  all  his  deputies  was  joinin'  ther 
rush,  ther  wa'n't  nobody  to  enforce  the  law  anyhow,  that  our  sub- 
scribers was  all  goin',  an'  every  darn  one  of  'em  owes  us  for  ther  paper. 
Then  he  said  he  wasn't  able  to  buy  a  team,  but  I  told  him  neighbor 
I^oomis  would  let  us  have  a  team  and  grubstake  ^  us  for  half  our  first 
year's  profits  (me  and  his  daughter  is  kinder  sweet  on  each  other). 
Then  Dad  ast  a  lot  about  Indians,  an'  then  he  says,  says  he,  feelin'  of 
his  head,  '  Well,  sonny,  even  if  we  could  go,  I  wouldn't,  'cause  I've 
got  too  much  regard  for  my  own  scalp,  if  you  haven't  for  j^ours.' " 

"  A  mighty  sensible  decision,  young  man,"  answered  Mr.  Strat- 
ton, energetically. 

Meanwhile  the  noise  in  the  saloon  was  becoming  greater,  and 
Sanderson's  oaths  could  now  be  heard  as  he  drank  more  and  more 


58  LIFEONTHEPLAINS 

deeply.  As  the  turmoil  increased,  a  new  sensation  added  fuel  to  the 
excitement,  for  hoof  beats  were  heard  up  the  street,  and  a  dashing 
young  woman  brought  her  horse  to  his  haunches  as  she  recognized 
Mr.  Stratton  and  inquired  : 

"  Is  father  here  ?  " 

Gladys  was  at  first  undecided.  She  let  her  horse  cavort  while 
she  was  thinking,  for  she  rode  like  a  centaur.  A  wild,  passionate 
nature,  with  sparkling  eyes,  long  dark  hair  and  a  form  that  would 
have  put  Venus  to  shame,  untamed  and  uneducated  in  books,  Gladys 
was  every  inch  a  lady  and  shrank  from  pushing  her  way  into  the 
throng.  Apparently  she  was  waiting  for  someone,  and  soon  old 
Mother  Sanderson  came  walking  down  the  street  with  the  gait  peculiar 
to  a  woman  whose  life  is  spent  largely  in  the  saddle. 

Gladys  dismounted,  as  a  dozen  young  men  offered  her  assist- 
ance, and  stood  there  talking  with  Mother  Sanderson,  still  undecided. 
At  this  juncture,  Al  Peters,  who  had  disappeared  after  telling  his 
story,  came  rushing  up  to  the  crowd,  and  not  noticing  the  presence 
of  Mother  Sanderson  and  Gladys,  inquired  loudly  and  anxiously : 

"  Where's  the  women  ?  Josselyn  has  heard  the  old  man  is 
going  on  a  tare  and  wants  to  get  them  safely  home.  Here,  he's 
coming  now,"  pointing  to  a  cloud  of  dust  down  the  road  that  soon 
revealed  a  horse  and  rider. 

"  Hooray,  here  comes  the  Tenderfoot ! "  a  small  boy  shouted 
out,  as  Josselyn  rode  up  a  moment  later,  with  a  natural  flourish  that 
provoked  cheers  from  a  few  and  that  excited  the  admiration  or  envy 
of  the  others. 

The  new  arrival  was  the  most  remarkable  character  of  them 
all.  About  twenty-two  years  old,  he  was  tall  and  fair,  with  a  boyish 
(almost  girlish)  face,  in  spite  of  the  sunburn  of  two  seasons  on  a  Colo- 
rado ranch.  His  clear  blue  eye  was  at  once  strong  as  steel  and  tender 
as  the  heart  of  a  woman  in  love.  There  was  still  a  certain  weakness 
or  unsophisticated  appearance  about  him,  but  the  mouth  was  firm, 
nor  could  the  rough  life  of  the  plains  conceal  the  natural  grace  of 
person  and  charm  of  manner  that  had  so  endeared  Josselyn  to  many 


n.  F.  Harry,  I'lioto 

Buckskin  Joe  "  and  the  famous  buckskin-colored  broncho  from  which  he  derived  his  title  " 


GLADYS    AND    JOSSELYN  61 

a  woman,  while  at  the  same  time  it  made  him  despised  by  many  of 
the  cowboys  and  hated  by  Sanderson. 

"  Oh,  I'm  so  glad  to  find  you  here,"  Josselyn  said  anxiously, 
as  he  approached  Gladys,  after  having  hitched  his  horse.  "  I  was 
afraid  you  might  be  in  trouble.  Come,  Mother  Sanderson,"  he  said, 
taking  her  old  hand  gently  but  forcefully  in  his,  "  I  wish  you  and 
Gladys  would  go  right  home  with  Old  Faithful  here." 

And  he  looked  at  Gladys  in  a  way  that  thrilled  her  heart,  as 
he  put  his  other  arm  around  her,  and  in  brotherly  fashion  urged : 
*'  Come,  won't  you  go  along  too  ?  " 

At  this  moment  Sanderson  came  to  the  saloon  door,  took  in 
the  situation  at  a  glance,  and  instantly  imputed  to  Josselyn's  attitude 
a  meaning  that  was  furthest  from  the  young  man's  thought. 

"  What  are  you  doing  with  my  daughter,  you  damned  Ten- 
derfoot !  "  Sanderson  cried,  fumbling  excitedly  for  his  shooting  irons, 
as  he  rushed  toward  the  boy.  Realizing  the  man's  irresponsible  and 
dangerous  condition,  without  hesitating  a  moment,  Josselyn  ran  up 
to  him,  knocked  the  revolver  from  his  hand,  and  in  the  tussle  that 
followed,  threw  the  old  man  to  the  ground  and  deftly  bound  his 
hands  with  horse  hair  cord  (hackamore)  that  serves  the  double  pur- 
pose of  a  band  for  a  sombrero  and  halter  for  one's  horse. 

"  Sorry  to  do  it,  Mr.  Sanderson,  but  you've  got  to  stay  fastened 
until  you're  sobered  off,"  Josselyn  said,  out  of  breath,  tying  Sander- 
son's feet  with  the  lariat  he  snatched  from  the  Indian's  hand,  and 
with  it  also  pinioning  the  man's  legs  and  arms. 

If  ever  there  was  a  fiend  incarnate,  it  was  Sanderson  as  he  found 
himself  thus  disgraced  before  the  whole  community,  and  especially 
before  his  family.  His  oaths  and  threats  were  blood  curdling,  as  he 
writhed  in  fury. 

"  Come,  JosseljTi,  skip  out  with  the  boys  for  the  Black  Hills, 
your  life  won't  be  worth  a  nickle  here  after  he  gets  loose  again,"  Mr. 
Stratton  whispered. 

"  That's  it,  come  with  us,  Josselyn,"  some  of  the  others  cried. 
"  Everybody's  going,  even  Hocker's  loading  a  '  schooner '  with  his  drug 


62  LIFE     ON     THE    PLAINS 

store  outfit.^*  There  won't  be  men  enough  left  in  Collins  by  tomorrow 
to  handle  a  round-up.  And  gold  ?  Deadwood  gulch  is  paved 
with  it." 

The  infection  of  the  rush,  of  the  lust  for  the  yellow  metal,  was 
contagious. 

"  All  right,  I'll  go  ! "  shouted  Josselyn  recklessly,  as  he  turned 
to  his  horse,  oblivious  to  everything  except  the  fever  for  gold  that  had 
so  suddenly  overmastered  him. 

But  Mother  Sanderson  caught  him  by  the  coat,  and  with 
wonderful  feeling  said : 

"  I  reckon  yer  kain't  leave  us  now." 

"Why,  I'll  be  back  in  a  little  while  —  rich,  too,"  Josselyn 
answered,  again  turning  to  his  horse,  still  beside  himself  with  that 
peculiar  psychological  frenzy  which  so  often  impels  men  to  leave  God 
and  love  and  all  in  the  mad  rush  for  gold. 

Gladys  now  broke  in,  with  a  voice  in  which  terror  and  love  vied 
with  each  other  in  overcoming  maidenly  reserve  : 

"  Oh,  don't  leave  us.  He  will  surely  kill  us  if  you  do.  Re- 
member you  promised  grandma  to  stay  on  the  ranch  another  year." 

"What  can  I  be  thinking  of?"  Josselyn  said,  half  to  himself, 
reason  and  judgment  again  reasserting  their  sway.  "  Of  course  I'll 
stay  and  take  care  of  you,  little  sister,  and  you  too,  grandma,"  Josselyn 
said  earnestly,  putting  one  arm  protectingly  around  the  old  woman, 
the  other  about  Gladys,  tenderly  yet  manfully. 

She  seemed  to  shrink  from  him,  for  though  pleased  with  his 
brotherly  endearment,  her  impulsive  nature  craved  rather  the  embrace 
of  a  lover. 

Sanderson  now  renewed  his  imprecations,  concluding  with  the 
threat : 

"  Just  wait  till  I  get  you  on  the  round-up  ! " 

Whereat  Gladys  impulsively  drew  close  to  Josselyn  again,  with 
an  emotion  that  anyone  but  he  could  have  understood. 

"  And  I'll  stay  too,"  cried  Al  Peters,  turning  his  back  on  the 
gold  seekers  as  he  stepped  to  Josseljrn's  side,  with  an  air  that  said 


K.  C.  Alwood,  Kii^raver 


Lee  Mooreliouse,  I'lioto 


"The  Tenderfoot" 


GLADYS    AND    JOSSELYN 


65 


more  eloquently  than  words,  "  you  will  need  a  friend,  and  here  is 
your  man." 

But  the  other  cowboys  looked  on  coldly,  both  because  they 
feared  Sanderson,  and  had  no  love  for  the  Tenderfoot. 

During  the  melee.  Buckskin  Joe  had  been  a  silent  observer 
from  the  saloon  door.  The  light  from  within  brought  out  his  figui-e 
with  fine  effect.  Many  women,  hearing  of  the  excitement,  had  joined 
the  throng,  among  them  the  Vandewark  girls. 

"Oh,  isn't  he  great,"  Amelia  remarked  admiringly  as  they 
turned  to  go  home. 

"  Who  ?     The  Tenderfoot  ? "  her  sister  asked. 

"  No,  Buckskin  Joe,"  Amelia  confessed,  softly.  The  darkness 
hid  her  blushes. 


PART  Two 

Hate  and  Love 

SCENE  One 

On  the  Round-Up 


o 


CS     o 


^ 


O 


Rounding  'em  up 


Culling  out 


One  of  the  horae  herds 


Bringing  up  the  horse  cavoy 


Roping  a  steer  to  inspect  brand 


Throwing  the  steer 


Inspecting  the  brand 


W.  G.  Walker,  Photo 


Dragging  calf  from  herd 


Branding  the  calf 


Bunch  of  trail  cattle 


Shoeing  a  broncho 


Groups  of  cowboys 


Facing  the  camera 


Ready  for  business 


Cow  puncher's  camp 


Cooking  supper 


The  mess  wagon 


■ 

^m^ 

TBi^^S 

m 

m 

■      1 

Supper  on  the  round-up 


After  supper 


A  bull  fight  on  the  plains 


Riding  a  yearling 


W.  G.  Walker,  Photo 


Tired  cow  ponies  at  rest 


Cow  pony  equipped  for  the  round-up 


Bucking  bronchos 


Bucking  broQchos 


HE  fourth  day  of  the  big  round-up  ^^  had  been  a 
hard  one  for  the  cowboys.  They  had  started  in  by 
gathering  at  the  Carwyle  ranch  on  the  Little 
Thompson  all  the  cattle  in  the  surrounding  country, 
but  the  first  day's  total  did  not  make  much  of  a  bunch.  On  Wednes- 
day, the  numbers  had  increased,  and  after  the  various  ranchmen  had 
cut  out  from  the  herd  the  cattle  bearing  their  own  brands,  there 
remained  quite  a  bunch  of  mavericks,  unclaimed  brands  and  un- 
branded  stock. 

This  extensive  "  caveyard  "  had  been  driven  over  to  the  first 
dry  creek  north  of  the  Big  Thompson  on  the  Collins  road,  and  had 
been  largely  augmented  by  the  left-overs  from  the  round-up  of  the  two 
intervening  days.  Some  of  the  ranchmen  had  not  had  time  to  drive 
off  to  their  ranges  their  own  bunches  of  stock,  and  the  "  cutting  out " 
had  not  been  finished  at  Friday's  close. 

Yet  Josselyn  seemed  as  tireless  as  his  broncho,  in  spite  of  hav- 
ing been  in  the  saddle  almost  constantly  fifteen  hours  a  day  for  nearly 
a  week.  He  was  at  home  with  his  horse,  and  could  "  cut  out "  a  steer 
from  the  angry  herd  with  the  fearlessness  and  sangfroid  of  a  veteran 
of  the  plains,  yet  with  far  more  grace. 


86  HATE    AND    LOVE 

His  horse  was  wonderfully  intelligent,  and  as  soon  as  the 
animal  to  be  cut  out  was  selected,  the  horse  would  gallop  for  it  until 
he  could  lay  his  nose  against  the  steer's  rump,  and  keep  it  there 
until  the  frightened  creature  was  driven  into  its  owner's  private  bunch 
of  cattle  some  distance  away. 

The  ease  with  which  Josselyn  carried  off  his  work,  and  the 
poetry  of  motion  expressed  by  every  movement  of  horse  and  rider, 
made  the  other  cowboys  rather  envious  of  the  Tenderfoot,  as  they 
still  persisted  in  calling  him,  partly  also,  because  of  the  unconscious 
charm  with  which  his  cowboy  suit  became  him. 

Sanderson  had  realized  this  situation  from  the  first.  He  had 
fostered  the  spirit  of  envy  against  Josselyn,  while  his  cowboys  had 
increasingly  forced  the  Tenderfoot  into  the  most  dangerous  places, 
the  hardest  rides  and  the  longest  hours.  Not  only  did  Josselyn  hold 
his  own  with  the  toughest  of  them,  but  by  refusing  to  join  them  in 
drinking,  had  still  further  increased  their  ill-will. 

While  waiting  for  supper,  the  cowboys  had  regaled  themselves 
with  tests  of  endurance  and  horsemanship  in  riding  bucking  bronchos. 
In  spite  of  the  most  sudden  pitching,  wrenching,  gyrating,  dancing 
and  jumping  of  the  horses,  none  of  the  riders  had  been  thrown  or 
even  forced  to  "  touch  leather  *'  — that  is,  to  hold  on.  For  a  variation, 
one  of  the  boys  then  rode  a  yearling  steer  —  amid  the  uproarious 
applause  of  his  fellows.  Just  as  an  appetizer,  the  men  concluded  the 
day's  activities  with  a  mad  race,  in  which  the  rushing  speed  of  the 
horses  was  well  matched  by  the  enthusiastic  whoops  of  their  cow- 
boy riders. 

After  supper,  care-free  for  a  time,  their  day's  work  done,  the 
cowboys  were  lounging  about,  while  a  few  of  the  younger  ones  were 
having  the  evening  frolic  that  is  so  dear  to  the  plainsman's  heart. 
Some  were  busy  tying  mysterious  knots  in  lariats,  others  were  repairing 
saddles,  polishing  bridles  or  spurs,  all  were  either  smoking,  drinking 
or  chewing.  One  fellow  was  braiding  horse  hairs  of  various  colors 
into  a  hackamore  with  wonderfully  artistic  effect.  The  cowboys' 
stories,  language  and  gestures  were  picturesque  in  the  extreme,  too 


ON    THE    ROUND-UP  8T 

much  so  to  be  literally  described  here.  But  while  rough  almost  to 
savagery,  the  men  were  a  fine  set  of  fellows  with  a  code  of  honor  that 
only  needs  to  be  known  to  be  appreciated.  Their  regard  for  pure 
womanhood  amounts  to  reverence.  To  this  day,  a  woman  is  safer 
among  cowboys  than  with  any  other  class  of  men. 

"  Eaten  so  much  you  can't  stand,  Bud  ?  "  said  one  of  the  boys 
to  a  big  chap  as,  unawares,  he  tripped  him  to  the  ground.  Bud 
picked  himself  up  and  tackled  the  fellow  in  a  wrestle  that  was  a  sight 
to  behold. 

"  Did  yer  h'ar  about  Happy  Dick  and  them  English  lords 
up  to  ther  hotel  in  Collins  last  week  ?  "  spoke  up  another.  "  Ther 
Englishmen  rides  up  to  ther  hotel,  sees  Dick  and  orders  him,  as 
though  he  was  a  nigger :  *  H'ar,  b'y,  tak'  me  boss.'  '  Go  to  hell,' 
answers  Dick,  as  mild  as  ken  be.  *  Most  extraordinary  servants  they 
do  hev  to  wait  on  gentlemen,'  says  one  Englishman  to  t'other. 
*  Don't  see  no  gentlemen,'  says  Dick.  And  then  ther  way  he  lit  into 
them  —  gosh  !  " 

How  the  cowboys  did  laugh  at  this,  for  nothing  pleases  them 
better  than  to  take  the  starch  out  of  an  "  aristocrat." 

*'  Speaking  uf  mules,"  now  put  in  old  Want-To  —  so  named 
because  of  a  peculiarity  of  speech  that  made  him  pronounce  those 
words,  "  Want-t-t-to,"  with  an  oddly  distinct  emphasis  on  the  two  T's 
—  "I  was  teamin'  onct  with  eight  pa'r  uf  big  mules,  when  my  wagon 
got  stuck.  Team  couldn't  budge,  nohow.  A  little  ways  back  I  had 
pas't  ther  camp  of  a  feller  from  Missura,  an'  noticed  he  had  a  slick 
little  pa'r  o'  mules,  so  I  went  back  an'  ast  him  to  help  me  out. 

"  *  I  reckon  I  kin,'  says  he,  drawlin'  like,  an'  hitched  up  an' 
kom  alon'  about  as  moderate  as  he  talked.  When  we  uns  reached 
my  team,  his  mules  looked  like  rabbits  'side  o'  mine. 

"  '  Ef  your  mules  is  good  to  leed,'  says  I,  *  hitch  on  in  front 
thar  and  p'raps  we  kin  start  her.' 

Look  y'ar,  stranger,'  says  he,  ez  drawlly  ez  ever,  *  I  reckon 
my  team  kin  pull  out  yer  wagon,  but  I'm  a  leetle  doubtful  if  they'll 
pull  out  eight  pa'r  of  mules  besides  ! '  " 


88  HATEANDLOVE 

A  roar  of  laughter  greeted  the  remark,  and  one  of  the 
boys  said  : 

"  Wa'll,  what  did  you  do,  Want-To  ?  " 

"  Dew,  you fool,  I  don'  as   I  was  tol'  —  took  off  ther 

whole  sixteen  mules.  The  Missourian  slowly  hitched  on  his  team  — 
they  looked  like  mice  against  ther  big  wagon.  Then  he  picks  up 
ther  reins  in  his  lef  ban',  grabs  his  blacksnake  in  ther  right  —  all 
moderate  like.  But  of  a  suddint  he  wakes  up  like  a  million  engines, 
jerks  ther  reins,  wraps  ther  whip  around  both  mules  at  one  blow,  and 
yells  '  Git  up '  with  a  string  of  swar  words  after  it  —  ther  longest 
and  strongest  and  handsomest  cussin'  I  ever  heer'd  —  oh,  it  was 
bewtiful." 

"  What  did  the  mules  do  ?  "  interrupted  a  rather  fresh  boy. 

"  Dew  ?  "  again  replied  Want-To  with  withering  scorn.  "  What 
in  hell  could  they  dew  with  that  infernal  cussin'  behind  'em  ?  Why, 
they  jest  got  right  down  on  theyre  bellies  an'  clum\  that's  what  they 
don'  —  an'  brought  ther  whole  outfit  arter  'em,  too  !  " 

"  Them  mules  was  educated^  sagely  commented  "  Polly  Ann," 
a  lean,  tall,  cadaverous,  freckled-faced  and  red-headed  individual  — 
of  the  male  persuasion  in  spite  of  his  feminine  appellation. 

"  An'  so  was  their  driver,"  added  Osgood  —  the  little  chap  had 
got  off  onto  the  round-up  somehow  and  was  making  the  most  of  the 
experience.  "  When  I  was  a  kid,"  he  continued  —  "  How  long  ago 
was  that,  old  man  ?  "  the  cowboys  laughingly  interrupted  —  "I  started 
to  drive  a  four-mule  team  an'  heavily  loaded  wagon  from  Collins  up 
Clear  Creek  canyon  to  Central  City.  I  bed  never  driven  mules  much, 
but  bed  an  ol'  teamster  on  the  for'red  team.  All  went  well  until  we 
come  to  a  bluff  about  so  steep"  [indicating  with  his  hand  almost 
perpendicularly].  "The  ol'  man  was  jest  disappeerin'  over  ther  top 
when  my  mules  stopped,  about  two-thirds  up  ther  bluff.  Ther  brake 
wouldn't  hold,  ther  mules  began  to  slide  backwards.  I  know'd  that 
two  seconds  more  would  see  us  all  in  Kingdom  Come  if  somethin' 
wa'n't  done.  So  I  hollers  to  the  ol '  man  :  '  Hi,  there,  what  shall  I 
do  ? '     He  turns  aroun',  takes  in  the  situation  at  a  glance  an'  yells  back  : 


ON     THE    ROUND-UP 


89 


"  '  Swear  at  'em,  you fool,  swear  at  'em  ! ' 

"  Which  I  done.     And  them  mules  went  flying  up  ther  hill 
as  if  they  was  going  to  home  and  mother  !  " 

"  Easy  enough  when  you  know  how,"  commented  Polly  Ann. 
Griswold,  who  had  been  tuning  his  old  fiddle,  now  spoke  up  : 
"  This  yere  camp  fire  'minds  me  uf  ther  last  time  I  was  pros- 
pecting, you  bet."     The  man  had  such  a  reputation  for  silence  that 
all  listened  eagerly. 


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Chuck  Witham 

"  It  was  above  the  snow  line,  an'  the  four  of  us  was  so  doggone 
tired  when  we  got  thar,  you  bet,  we  just  dumped  ther  burros'  loads 
on  ther  ground,  wrapped  up  in  our  blankets  and  slep'  like  logs. 
Wa'll,  sir,  when  we  gets  up  ter  breakfast,  you  bet  our  supplies  was 
strewed  aroun'  everywhere,  and  ther  labels  was  missing  from  every 
tin  can  ! " 

"  What  done  it  ?  "  asked  Osgood. 


90  HATE    AND    LOVE 

"  B'ars  !  They  hed  licked  ofFen  ther  labels  to  get  ther  sweet 
mucilage.  Wuss't  uf  it  was,  when  we  selected  a  can  for  a  meal,  we 
couldn't  tell  whether  we  was  going  to  hev  corn  or  tomatoes,  or  what !  " 
Griswold  concluded  with  one  of  his  characteristically  emphatic  "  You 
bets,"  and  was  about  to  play  on  his  fiddle  when  Josselyn  rode  up  on 
his  beautiful  broncho. 

"  Hello,  Josselyn.     Ain't  seen  you  all  day.     Whar  yer  bin  ?  " 

Dismounting  with  rather  a  tired  air,  Josselyn  stood  by  his 
horse's  head,  patting  her  neck  affectionately  as  he  answered  : 

"  Had  a  long  ride  'way  over  toward  Virginia  Dale  — just 
got  back  ! " 

"  Kinder  lonesum  all  off  by  yerself  ?  " 

"  Not  for  a  day  or  two.  But  when  a  fellow's  on  the  range  for 
weeks  at  a  time,  it  does  get  lonesome.  No  cowboy  could  stand  it, 
were  it  not  for  his  horse.  Why,  my  little  mare  here,"  and  he  turned 
to  her  with  loving  enthusiasm,  "  is  regular  company.  I  talk  to  her 
just  as  I  would  to  a  woman." 

"  A  woman,  Josselyn,  no,  no,"  the  boys  laughed  skeptically. 

"  Just  as  I  would  to  any  of  you  fellows,  and  she  knows  as  much 
—  a  sight  more  sometimes,  don't  you,  Josie  ?  " 

The  sinewy  animal  nodded  her  head  in  graceful  affirmation 
as  she  laid  her  nose  softly  against  her  master's  sunburned  face,  with 
an  intelligence  that  certainly  confirmed  his  statement. 

Griswold,  unable  longer  to  repress  his  fiddle,  now  struck  up  a 
lively  tune  and  called  out : 

"  Come,  Josselyn,  start  up  ther  cowboy's  dance  song." 

'*  Yes,  let's  have  it,"  cried  the  others. 

A  second  invitation  was  not  necessary,  for  all  seemed  attuned 
to  the  moment,  and,  as  Josselyn  finished  each  stanza,  they  joined  in 
the  chorus  with  a  vim  and  vigor  that  carried  the  sound  far  out  on  the 
silent  prairie. 


THE  COWBOY'S  DANCE  SONG 

You  can't  expect  a  common  cowboy  to  agitate  his  shanks 

In  an  etiquettish  manner  in  aristocratic  ranks, 

When  he's  always  been  accustomed  to  shake  the  heel  and  toe. 

At  the  rattling  rancher  dances  where  much  etiquette  don't  go. 

You  can  bet  I  set  them  laughing  in  quite  excited  way, 

A  giving  of  their  squinters  an  astonished  sort  of  play. 

When  I  happened  in  to  Denver  and  was  asked  to  take  a  prance. 

In  the  smooth  and  easy  mazes  of  a  hightoned  dance. 

Chorus  —  Repeat  last  two  lines  of  each  stanza. 

When  I  got  among  the  ladies  in  their  frocks  of  fleecy  white. 
And  the  dudes  togged  out  in  trappin's  that  was  simply  out  of  sight. 
Tell  you  what,  I  was  embarrassed,  and  somehow  I  couldn't  keep 
From  feelin'  like  a  burro  in  a  flock  of  pretty  sheep. 
Every  step  I  made  was  awkward  and  I  blushed  a  fiery  red. 
Like  the  principal  adornment  on  a  turkey  gobbler's  head. 
The  ladies  said  'twas  seldom  they  had  the  pleasure  of  a  chance 
To  see  An  old  cowpuncher  at  a  hightoned  dance. 

Chorus  — 

I  cut  me  out  a  little  heifer  from  a  bunch  of  pretty  girls 
And  yanked  her  to  the  center  to  waltz  the  dreamy  whirls. 
She  laid  her  head  upon  my  bosom  in  a  loving  sort  of  way. 
And  we  glided  into  heaven  as  the  band  began  to  play. 
I  could  feel  my  neck  a-burning  from  her  nose's  breathing  heat. 
As  she  do-se-doed  around  me,  half  the  time  upon  my  feet. 
She  peered  up  in  my  blinkers  with  a  soul  dissolving  glance. 
Quite  conducive  to  the  pleasures  of  a  hightoned  dance. 

Chorus  — 

Ev'ry  nerve  just  got  to  dancing  to  the  music  of  delight 
As  I  hugged  the  little  sage  hen  uncomfortably  tight. 
But  she  never  made  a  bellow,  and  the  glances  of  her  eyes 
Seemed  to  thank  me  for  the  pleasure  of  a  genuine  surprise. 
She  snuggled  up  against  me  in  a  loving  sort  of  way. 
And  I  hugged  her  all  the  tighter  for  her  trustifying  play. 
Tell  you  what,  the  joys  of  heaven  ain't  a  cussed  circumstance 
To  the  hugamania  pleasures  of  a  hightoned  dance. 

Chorus  — 

When  they  struck  the  old  cotillion,  on  the  music  bill  of  fare, 
Every  bit  of  divil  in  me  seemed  to  bust  out  on  a  tare. 
I  fetched  a  cowboy  whoop  and  started  in  to  rag. 
And  cut  her  with  my  trotters  till  the  floor  began  to  sag. 
Swung  my  partner  'til  she  got  seasick  and  rushed  to  a  seat, 
I  balanced  to  the  next  one,  but  she  dodged  me  slick  and  neat. 
Tell  you  what,  I  shook  the  creases  from  my  go-to-meetin'  pants 
While  I  put  the  cowboy  trimmin's  on  that  hightoned  dance ! 

Chorus  — 


92  HATEANDLOVE 

"  Gosh,  ain't  that  a  rip  snorter,"  Osgood  cried  out  enthusiasti- 
cally, as  the  last  stanza  was  concluded  with  all  the  gusto  of  the  bound- 
less plains. 

"  It  be  that,"  commented  old  Want-To,  "  but  now  kain't  yer 
give  us  ther  meetin'-house  song  ?  " 

Instead  of  raising  a  laugh,  the  question  caused  the  previous 
hilarity  to  give  way  to  a  quaint  sort  of  reverence,  as  Josselyn  answered  : 

"  Why,  yes,  we  know  what  you  mean." 

They  all  joined  him  in  repeating  the  last  two  lines  of  each 
stanza  as  a  refrain. 

THE  COWBOY'S  SWEET  BYE  AND  BYE 

Last  night  as  I  lay  on  the  prairie. 

And  gazed  at  the  stars  in  the  sky, 
I  wondered  if  ever  a  cowboy 

Would  drift  to  the  sweet  bye  and  bye. 

Oh,  the  trail  to  that  bright,  mystic  region 

Is  narrow  and  dim,  so  they  say. 
While  the  trail  that  leads  to  perdition 

Is  posted  and  blazed  all  the  way. 

I  wonder  whose  fault  that  so  many 

Will  be  lost  at  that  great  final  sale. 
When  they  might  have  been  good  and  had  plenty. 

Had  they  known  of  that  dim,  narrow  trail. 

They  say  there  will  be  one  grand  round-up. 

Where  the  cowboys  like  cattle  will  stand. 
To  be  culled  by  the  riders  of  judgment, 

Who  are  posted  and  know  every  brand. 

Perhaps  there  will  be  some  stray  cowboys, 

Unbranded,  unclaimed  by  none  nigh. 
To  be  mavericked  by  the  riders  of  judgment. 

And  shipped  to  the  sweet  bye  and  bye. 

As  the  melody  died  away,  after  a  moment's  silence,  "  It's  Old 
Faithful's  turn  !  "  one  of  the  cowboys  shouted,  and  the  rest  joined  in : 

"  Yes,  that's  right.  Now,  come  on,  noble  redman,  give  us  an 
Indian  song  and  war  dance.'* 

The  reluctant  half  breed  was  dragged  into  the  foreground 
with  scant  ceremony. 


ON    THE    ROUND-UP 


98 


Beginning  with  a  guttural  dirge,  his  body  swaying  slowly  in 
unison,  the  Indian's  voice  and  motions  gradually  quickened  as  he 
went  off  into  all  the  agony  and  contortions  of  face,  voice  and  figure 
that  characterize  the  war  dance,  concluding  in  a  fit  of  sheer  exhaus- 
tion, as  great  beads  of  sweat  dripped  from  his  glistening  copper- 
colored  skin. 


Tightening  a  cinch 


"  Whew,  but  that's  the  real  thing,  Old  Faithful,"  spoke  up  Al 
Peters,  almost  with  a  shudder,  as  the  applause  subsided  with  which 
the  Indian's  acting  had  been  royally  rewarded.  "  Somehow  it  reminds 
me  of  the  way  Charley  Slade  done  away  with  that  ranchman  Jules  — 
tied  the  poor  devil  to  a  telegraph  pole  and  then  stood  off  and  shot  at 
him  until  when  at  last  Jules  died  they  wa'n't  a  piece  of  skin  on  him 
as  big  as  a  saucer  but  what  was  punctured." 


94  HATE    AND    LOVE 

"  Don't  you  remember,  too,  how  Slade  cut  off  Jules'  ears  ? 
He  carried  them  in  his  pocket,  and  whenever  he  wanted  a  drink, 
Slade  would  go  into  a  saloon,  throw  the  ears  on  the  bar,  and  demand 
the  best  they  had.  He  got  it,  too,  and  they'd  never  accept  either  the 
ears  or  Slade's  money  —  glad  enough  to  get  rid  of  him  so  easily." 

"  Yes,"  commented  Polly  Ann,  "  Slade  was  a  tough  cuss.  The 
vigilance  committee  up  to  Virginia  City  done  a  good  job  when  they 
hung  him.  But  Slade  was  a  good  man  for  the  Overland.  He  made 
it  unhealthy  for  boss  thieves  along  the  route.  Slade  wa'n't  no  slouch 
of  a  driver  himself — Hank  Monk^  isn't  in  it  alongside  of  him." 

"  That's  right,"  joined  in  Witham.  "  It  was  Slade  that  drove 
the  first  stage  west  after  the  Plum  Creek  massacre.^^  He  strapped 
his  passengers  on  like  bags  —  they  was  two  women  and  four  men  — 
so  that  in  the  race  for  life  the  stage  wouldn't  have  to  stop  to  pick  up 
passengers  that  was  shot  off  or  jolted  off." 

The  howl  of  a  coyote  now  broke  in  upon  the  ear. 

"  What  good's  them  pesky  critters,  anyway  ?  "  said  Chuck 
Witham,  with  disgust.  For  there  is  something  about  the  sneaking 
prairie  wolf  that  arrays  against  him  the  enmity  of  every  decent  man. 

Griswold  interrupted  by  uttering  an  effective  imitation  of  the 
coyote's  cry,  and  jumping  to  his  feet,  his  fiddle  in  hand,  began  a 
peculiarly  weird  refrain  as  he  cried  : 

"  All  up,  boys.     Now  for  the  animal  song." 

Peters  led  off  by  singing  a  little  verse  derisive  of  the  coyote, 
followed  by  Griswold's  imitation  of  the  coyote's  cry,  and  then  all  the 
boys  joined  in  a  chorus  that  was  an  exact  reproduction  of  the  howl 
of  a  pack  of  prairie  wolves  —  now  near,  now  far,  now  snarlingly 
repulsive,  now  with  a  cadence  and  a  certain  degree  of  melody  that 
has  been  the  lullaby  of  many  a  tired  traveler  on  the  prairie. 

This,  and  other  animal  songs,  were  sung  with  an  abandon,  an 
originality,  and  a  fidelity  to  nature  that  was  as  remarkable  as  it  was 
rare.  One  might  travel  the  world  over  and  never  hear  or  see  the 
like  again,  for  the  actions  of  the  singers  indicated  the  various  animals 
quite  as  much  as  their  voices. 


ON    THE    ROUND-UP  95 

Tired  by  their  singing,  the  boys  fell  to  debating  the  latest 
"  chaps,"  and  disputing  over  the  speed  record  for  tying  steers  and 
branding  calves.  The  habits  of  antelope  at  night  were  being 
discussed  in  one  little  group  of  which  Osgood  was  a  member, 
until  he  said  : 

"  I  bet  I  know  where  a  band  of  antelope  are  sleeping  now. 
I'll  jump  on  my  horse  and  see  if  I  can  find  'em  —  it's  only  a  few 
miles  "  —  and  off  he  went. 

"  Me  go  with  him  —  no  get  lost,"  muttered  Old  Faithful,  dis- 
appearing in  the  darkness. 

"  Wonder  where  Sanderson  is  tonight  ?  "  It  was  Witham 
who  inquired. 

"  Guess  the  old  man's  fillin'  up  again,"  Peters  answered.  "  If 
he  takes  much  more,  there'll  be  trouble  in  camp,  sure." 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  Sanderson  had  begun  drinking  on  the  first 
day  of  the  round-up,  and  each  succeeding  evening  found  him  in  a 
more  dangerous  mood.  This  Friday  things  had  gone  wrong  with 
Sanderson.  He  had  been  worsted  in  a  dispute  over  some  mavericks 
or  unbranded  calves  which  he  claimed.  He  had  also  failed  in  "  cutting 
out "  a  refractory  steer,  and  but  for  Josselyn's  assistance  might  have 
been  seriously  injured.  To  Sanderson  this  seemed  to  be  adding  insult 
to  injury,  which  he  sought  to  assuage  by  repeated  and  deep  potations. 

He  had  come  into  camp  late,  drank  still  more  heavily,  became 
further  angered  to  find  supper  was  over,  and  at  last  worked  himself 
into  an  even  more  frenzied  condition  than  on  the  previous  occasion. 
Sanderson  had  thrown  off  his  coat  and  laid  aside  his  pistols  as  he  sat 
down  for  supper,  but  catching  a  glimpse  of  Josselyn,  he  drew  his 
famous  long  bowie  knife,  and  with  murder  in  his  eyes  and  hate  in 
his  heart,  started  for  the  Tenderfoot. 

Peters,  who  had  kept  an  eye  on  both  men  during  the  round-up, 
ran  around  one  of  the  wagons  and  quietly  told  Josselyn  that  Sander- 
son was  after  him. 

"  Thank  you,  Al,"  the  boy  replied,  with  a  peculiar  smile, 
apparently  unconcerned.  But  he  moved  away,  avoiding  his  pursuer 
as  long  as  possible. 


96  HATEANDLOVE 

At  length,  however,  Sanderson  caught  sight  of  mm  again, 
when  the  boy  ran  behind  the  rear  wheel  of  one  of  the  large  prairie 
schooners  that  formed  the  background  of  the  camp. 

It  was  a  thrilling  scene. 

The  covered  wagons,  containing  the  commissariat,  were  ar- 
ranged in  the  usual  semicircle  —  not  because  Indians  were  feared, 
but  by  sheer  force  of  habit  on  the  part  of  the  teamsters  to  have  a 
formation  that  would  best  withstand  attack.  In  front  of  the  wagons 
were  several  camp  fires. 

The  cooks  were  still  busy  cleaning  up.  The  cowboys  were 
lying  about,  smoking  and  drinking,  telling  stories  or  enjoying  their 
rough  horseplay.  Horses  and  mules  were  tethered  or  grazing  peace- 
fully near  by.  In  the  distance  was  the  "  caveyard,"  and  in  various 
directions  numerous  large  bunches  of  cattle,  each  in  charge  of  silent 
horsemen,  the  whole  giving  the  impression  of  countless  thousands  of 
live  stock. 

The  great  plain  stretched  away  into  the  twilight  with  unend- 
ing vastness,  broken  at  the  south  and  east  only  by  an  occasional  bluff 
or  butte,  terminating  at  the  west  in  the  foothills  and  the  snow-capped 
mountains  above.  The  loneliness  of  the  background  was  weirdly 
illumined  by  the  dying  embers  of  what  had  been  a  glowing  sunset. 

Into  the  midst  of  this  picture  rushed  Sanderson,  uttering  vile 
oaths,  his  face  becoming  more  livid  with  murder  the  nearer  he  ap- 
proached Josselyn. 

"  Now  I  have  you, you  !  "  he  cried.     "  I'm  going  to 

cut  your heart  out." 

With  that  he  made  a  lunge  at  Josselyn  between  the  wide- 
parted  spokes  of  the  wheel. 

The  boy's  face  was  a  study.  It  was  pale,  but  not  with  fear. 
The  mouth  was  set  like  a  vise,  the  eye  with  a  glitter  of  steel,  resolute, 
firm,  alert.     His  right  hand  was  at  his  hip. 

He  waited  calmly  the  first  thrust,  but  it  failed  to  reach  him. 

With  another  horrid  oath,  Sanderson  came  near  enough  to 
reach  between  the  spokes,  and  to  disembowel  the  boy  with  one  thrust 
and  turn  of  the  bowie  knife. 


ON     THE    ROUND-UP  97 

At  this  instant,  Josselyn  drew  his  revolver  and  shot  Sanderson 
through  the  heart. 

Uproar  followed.  Sanderson's  desperadoes  and  the  cowboys 
generally  resented  having  so  great  a  man  laid  low  by  a  despised 
tenderfoot. 

"  It  wasn't  a  fair  fight !  He  had  the  drop  on  the  old  man  ! 
Lynch  him  ! "  were  the  cries. 

Josselyn  retreated  to  the  further  end  of  the  camp,  his  smoking 
revolver  in  hand.     Al  Peters  sprang  to  his  side,  crying  out : 

"  Come,  Sam,  oh  Chuck,  Griswold,  where  be  yer  ?  " 

The  three  came  running  up,  two  of  them  with  rifles. 

The  five  men  deployed  into  a  three-quarter  circle,  their  shoot- 
ing irons  ready. 

"  Keep  cool,  sell  yer  lives  dear  if  yer  hev  to,"  whispered  Al. 

'*  You  bet,"  ejaculated  Griswold,  patting  his  gunstock  affec- 
tionately. 

The  rest  of  the  camp  came  on  in  numbers,  the  angry  despera- 
does in  front,  the  others  carried  with  them  by  the  excitement  of  the 
crisis.  It  was  an  intense  moment,  awaiting  only  the  first  shot  to 
start  a  fight  against  great  odds. 

"  Hold  on,  what's  all  this  ! "  cried  a  newcomer,  riding  into 
camp  between  the  unequal  opposing  forces,  waving  his  handkerchief 
as  a  flag  of  truce.     It  was  no  less  a  .person  than  Abner  Loomis.^ 

"  Ther  Tenderfoot's  murdered  Sanderson,"  was  the  answer 
from  the  larger  party. 

"  Self-defense,"  called  out  Peters. 

"  Wa'll,'*  said  Mr.  Loomis,  with  characteristic  deliberation  — 
he  was  never  known  to  be  phased,  no  matter  how  exciting  the  cir- 
cumstances —  "  ye  better  let  a  couple  o'  boys  from  each  side  escort 
the  leetle  cuss  up  to  ther  Fort  and  turn  him  over  to  Sheriff*  Mason." 

This  was  hotly  opposed  by  a  few  of  the  loudest-mouthed,  but 
the  sober-minded  recognized  the  wisdom  of  the  proposition.  More- 
over, the  sheriff''s  name  was  one  to  conjure  with,  for  he  was  a  char- 
acter of  no  mean  proportions. 


98 


HATE    AND    LOVE 


Captain  Mason  was  a  veteran  of  the  civil  war,  as  straight  as 
an  arrow  in  spite  of  his  more  than  sixty  years,  with  a  determined  face 
and  eyes  as  black  as  his  hair,  though  his  beard  was  well  tinged  with 
gray  —  a  type  of  the  men  who  as  sheriffs  did  so  much  to  bring  order 
out  of  the  chaos  of  early  days  in  the  far  west. 

So  it  did  not  take  long  for  the  opposing  parties  to  act  on  Mr. 
Loomis'  suggestion. 

Al  and  Chuck  were  chosen,  with  two  from  the  Sanderson 
party,  the  bodyguard  soon  mounted  and  rode  off  into  the  gloaming, 
Josselyn  unarmed,  with  two  guards  behind  him  and  two  in  front,  by 
whom  he  was  duly  turned  over  to  the  sheriff  and  locked  up  in  the 
Larimer  county  jail. 

"  Sho,  to  think  I  missed  all  the  fun,"  Osgood  said,  sorrowfully, 
when  he  got  back  to  camp,  half  an  hour  after  Josselyn's  departure, 
and  learned  of  the  affray. 

"  They's  times  when  the  round-up  ain't  no  place  for  boys," 
Mr.  Loomis  commented  quietly. 

Osgood  took  the  hint  and  kept  still.  But  he  never  forgave 
himself  for  that  hour's  absence  ! 


Roping  a  beef  steer 


Just  branded 


Branding  a  calf 


Skinning  a  beef 


PART  Two 

Hate  and  Love 

SCENE  Two 

Frances 


:£^ 


Frances 


UBLIC  sentiment  against  Josselyn  was 
intense.  While  he  had  a  number  of 
friends  who  loved  him  ardently,  out  of 
sheer  admiration  for  his  merits,  to  the 
great  majority  of  the  public  he  was 
unknown  other  than  that  he  was 
accused  of  having  murdered  one  of  their  most 
distinguished  citizens.  The  old  pioneer  settlers 
in  particular  took  it  as  something  like  a  personal 
insult  that  so  noted  a  man  among  them  should 
die  with  his  boots  on^*^  at  the  hands  of  a  dude 
tenderfoot. 

This  sentiment  against  Josselyn  was  art- 
fully fostered  in  every  conceivable  way,  until  the 
community  was  divided  into  rival  factions.  A 
few  stoutly  maintained  Josselyn's  innocence,  the 
rest  demanded  his  immediate  conviction  and 
execution.  Lynching,  however,  was  not  to  be 
thought  of  with  Sheriff  Mason  in  charge  of  the 
prisoner. 

In  due  course  the  trial  was  held,  with  as 
much  formality  as  circumstances  permitted.  It 
was  full  of  thrilling  incidents,  chief  of  which  was 


104  HATE    AND    LOVE 

the  report  of  the  jury  that  they  had  failed  to  agree,  standing  nine  for 
conviction  and  three  for  acquittal,  thus  reflecting  public  sentiment. 
The  demand  for  Josselyn's  life  now  became  so  strong  that  the  sheriff 
spirited  him  away  in  the  night  to  Denver,  where  he  was  confined  until 
the  final  trial,  almost  a  year  later. 

As  the  time  for  the  retrial  drew  near,  public  interest  was 
renewed  in  intensity,  and  the  feeling  between  the  rival  factions 
became  more  and  more  threatening.  The  case  was  the  all-absorbing 
topic  of  conversation,  and  was  one  of  the  first  things  talked  about  to 
immigrants,  who  were  now  pouring  into  the  country  in  large  numbers. 

These  people  came  from  the  east,  and  consisted  mainly  of  those 
who  sought  Colorado  for  their  health  as  well  as  to  restore  their 
fortunes. 

They  were  superior  to  the  class  that  settled  some  of  the  frontier 
states,  most  of  them  being  of  good  family,  whose  strength  of  mind 
and  body  has  been  perpetuated  in  their  offspring. 

The  stage  from  Greeley  had  been  more  and  more  heavily  loaded 
as  the  tide  of  immigration  increased.  Among  the  passengers  one 
day  arrived  a  gentleman  who  bore  every  evidence  of  being  a  New 
York  business  man  and  club  habitue.  He  was  accompanied  by  a 
woman  young  in  years,  but  whose  hectic  glow  revealed  at  a  glance 
that,  like  many  another  deluded  patient,  she  had  sought  the  rarefied 
atmosphere  of  Colorado  all  too  late.^'  The  solicitude  with  which  Mr. 
Upcraft  watched  over  and  waited  upon  his  niece  was  as  tender  and 
even  pathetic  as  it  was  destined  to  be  unavailing. 

Mr.  Upcraft  and  Frances  engaged  the  best  rooms  at  the  Agri- 
cultural hotel,  the  parlor  opening  upon  the  piazza  being  reserved  for 
Frances.  They  had  hardly  got  their  trunks  sent  in  before  the 
loquacious  proprietor,  Mr.  Scranton,  commenced  his  usual  dissertation 
upon  the  country  and  its  interests. 

"  So  you  are  from  New  York  ?  "  was  the  pointed  question  with 
which  he  began  his  talk  with  Mr.  Upcraft.  "  You  are  just  the  kind 
of  a  man  this  country  needs.  You've  got  capital,  and  we  need  money 
to  develop  our  resources.     Why,  we  have  the  greatest  country  here 


FRANCES  105 

on  the  face  of  the  earth  !  Just  get  water  onto  this  land  anywhere 
and  you  can  raise  seventy-five  bushels  of  wheat  to  the  acre  !  ^  These 
mountains  are  full  of  gold  and  silver,  waiting  to  be  dug  out !  Let's 
see,  what  did  you  say  was  your  business  ?  Banking,  I  should  judge. 
Well,  now,  if  there  is  any  one  thing  we  need  in  this  town,  it  is  more 
banking  capital.  There's  the  Younts  charging  us  three  per  cent  a 
month  for  interest.^  They  never  make  any  losses,  either.  You  will 
find  banking  here  a  cinch." 

"  But  I'm  not  going  into  business  at  present,"  Mr.  Upcraft 
interjected   politely.      "  I  have  come   here  for  my  niece's  health." 

"  Well,  I  thought  so,"  Mr.  Scranton  replied.  And  he  added, 
optimistically  :  "  Oh,  she'll  get  well  fast  enough.  Why,  I've  seen 
people  reach  here  so  sick  they  couldn't  get  out  of  the  stage  without 
having  a  hemorrhage,  and  yet  be  all  cured  up  in  a  few  months.  This 
climate  will  cure  anything  !  She  will  also  enjoy  getting  acquainted 
with  some  of  our  nice  young  ladies.  They're  always  glad  to  see  girls 
from  the  east.  I  think  Miss  Frothingham  will  be  specially  pleased 
with  Gladys  Sanderson.  She's  a  fine  girl,  though  she  has  been  in  a 
mighty  hard  place  during  the  past  year." 

"  How  is  that  ?  "  Mr.  Upcraft  inquired. 

"  Why,  haven't  you  heard  of  the  Josselyn  case  ?  The  Tender- 
foot who  is  accused  of  killing  her  father  ?  ** 

"  Why,  no.  That  sounds  interesting.  Miss  Frothingham  will 
be  down  directly  and  then  you  may  tell  us  about  it." 

After  supper  Frances  and  her  uncle  ensconced  themselves 
comfortably  on  the  piazza  to  hear  the  story. 

"  Why,  I  feel  ever  so  much  better  already,"  she  said,  smiling 
hopefully.  "  How  clear  the  air  is  !  How  near  the  town  is  to  the 
mountains  !  It  can't  be  more  than  a  couple  of  miles  to  the  top  of 
those  foothills." 

"  Nearer  ten,"  said  Mr.  Scranton.  "  You  will  soon  get  used 
to  distances  here.  They  always  deceive  newcomers  who  are  not 
accustomed  to  our  clear  atmosphere." 

*'  But  hadn't  we  better  go  inside,  out  of  the  damp  night  air  ?  "  ^ 


106 


HATE    AND    LOVE 


Mr.  Upcraft  remarked,  as  the  sun  was  disappearing  over  the  mountains. 

"  Oh,  no,  indeed  !  The  night  air  is  not  damp  here.  That's 
one  of  the  peculiarities  of  this  country.  We  have  no  dew.  And  the 
clear  dry  air  at  night  is  just  as  healthful  as  during  the  day." 

And  then  Mr.  Scranton  told,  in  a  matter-of-fact  way,  about 
the  Josselyn-Sanderson  episode.     As  landlord  of  the  town  he  had  felt 


The  colony  at  the  period  of  this  story 

From  a  photograph  of  Fort  Collins  taken  in  1874,  looking  west  toward  the  mountains,  but  only 
the  foothills  show  here,  a,  the  Agricultural  hotel ;  3,  "  the  first  frame  structure,"  illustrated  on  page 
43 ;  c,  "  the  new  brick  block  that  stood  by  itself  about  half  way  between  the  old  town  and  the  new 
colony"  (page  41).  The  "old  grout"  and  the  livery  stable  where  the  retrial  was  held,  are  further 
to  the  right,  not  shown,  and  the  Cache  la  Poudre  is  also  near  by,  at  the  right  and  north.  The  place 
is  now  a  thriving  city,  and  the  section  shown  above  crowded  with  business  blocks. 


FRANCES  •  107 

it  his  duty  to  hold  aloof  from  either  faction,  yet  could  not  wholly 
disguise  the  truth  that  his  sentiments  had  favored  the  Tenderfoot. 

*'  The  strangest  feature  of  the  whole  affair,  however,"  he  said, 
after  outlining  the  details  that  already  have  been  made  familiar  to 
the  reader,  **  is  the  way  Gladys  and  her  grandmother  take  it.  You 
would  suppose  the  old  lady,  especially,  would  be  bitter  against  the 
boy  who  has  killed  her  son,  even  though  the  girl  might  forgive  him 
out  of  love.  But  the  truth  is,  neither  of  those  women  will  say  any- 
thing about  it. 

**  The  day  after  Josselyn  was  put  in  jail  here,  Grandma  San- 
derson and  Gladys  had  a  long  interview  with  him  in  the  presence  of 
Sheriff  Mason.  The  captain  won't  let  on  much  about  what  passed 
there,  but  he  admits  that  the  Tenderfoot  told  them  his  story  in  a 
simple,  boyish  way.  The  old  woman  asked  him  one  or  two  questions, 
but  the  young  girl  never  said  a  word.  Just  sat  there  looking  at  him. 
Hardly  had  the  boy  finished  his  account  when  Gladys  jumped  up, 
grasped  his  two  hands  impulsively  and  said  : 

"  '  I  believe  every  word  of  it  !  I  know  you  did  it  in  self- 
defense  !     We'll  save  you  yet !  —  won't  we,  grandma  ?  ' 

"  The  old  woman  could  only  answer  through  her  tears  :  *Sartin, 
Gladys,  sartin.' 

*'  From  that  day  to  this,  Gladys  has  carried  herself  in  this  town 
like  a  queen.  No  one  dares  say  anything  to  her  about  the  case. 
She  seems  to  have  changed  all  at  once  from  a  girl  into  a  woman. 
Why,  she  sat  all  through  the  first  trial  without  showing  any  emotion ; 
but  when  the  jury  reported  disagreement,  she  rushed  up  to  the  pris- 
oner, threw  her  arms  around  his  neck  and  kissed  him  right  before  the 
whole  court  room  full  of  people.  It  made  a  sensation,  I  tell  you  ! 
Even  the  boy's  enemies  joined  in  applause  at  the  girl's  action.*' 

"  When  is  the  case  going  to  be  tried  again  ?  "  Frances  inter- 
rupted, now  strangely  excited. 

"  It's  coming  off  next  week,"  answered  Scranton.  Then  low- 
ering his  voice  and  leaning  over  more  closely  so  as  not  to  be  overheard, 
he  volunteered : 


108  ^  HATE    AND    LOVE 

"  And  I  tell  you,  it  looks  bad  for  the  boy.  You  see,  the  best 
witnesses  for  the  defense  have  disappeared.  It's  mighty  curious  the 
way  they  went,  too.  It's  hardly  safe  to  say  anything  about  it,  but 
you  can  draw  your  own  conclusions.  The  fact  is,  Al  Peters,  who  was 
the  only  man  right  close  to  Josselyn  and  Sanderson  when  the  killing 
occurred,  and  who  testified  that  the  Tenderfoot  shot  in  self-defense, 
was  found  dead  in  one  of  the  canyons  over  there,  about  three  months 
ago,  where  he  had  gone  to  hunt  up  some  cattle.  There  were  three 
bullets  in  him  but  only  two  holes  —  he  was  a  good  shot,  too.  Then 
there  was  Chuck  Witham.  He  got  into  some  kind  of  a  scrap  with 
the  tough  fellows  on  the  Sanderson  range.  They  said  it  was  a  duel ; 
but  anyhow,  he  was  shot  dead.  That  cowboy,  Sam,  and  the  other 
fellow  who  had  joined  in  protecting  Josselyn  on  the  round-up,  were 
driven  out  of  the  country,  and  nobody  knows  where  they  are  now." 

"Well,  all  that's  bad  for  the  Tenderfoot,"  interrupted  Mr. 
Upcraft ;  "but  of  course  his  lawyers  have  their  testimony  that  was  put 
in  at  the  first  trial." 

"  That's  just  what  they  haven't  got,"  answered  Mr.  Scranton. 
"  That's  another  queer  thing.  You  see,  they  had  a  shorthand  reporter 
come  up  from  Denver,  who  took  down  every  word  of  the  testimony 
at  last  year's  trial.  He  wrote  it  up,  and  his* report,  with  all  the  other 
papers  in  the  case,  was  put  in  the  vault  at  the  court  house,  as  the 
only  safe  place.  But  here  about  six  months  ago  that  building  was 
burned — must  have  been  set  on  fire  purposely  —  and  after  the  fire 
was  out,  it  was  found  that  previously  the  vault  had  been  broken  open, 
and  there  was  nothing  left  in  it  pertaining  to  this  case,  though  none 
of  the  other  contents  had  been  removed,  and  they  were  all  right 
except  for  being  somewhat  charred.  Why,  you  can't  even  find  an 
old  newspaper  containing  a  report  of  the  first  trial." 

"  Yes,  but  they  can  get  the  reporter's  original  notebook,"  sug- 
gested Frances,  who  found  herself  taking  an  unaccountable  interest 
in  the  matter. 

"  Oh,  no.  That  was  filed  with  the  other  papers  in  the  vault, 
and  was  stolen  or  destroyed  at  the  time  of  the  fire." 


"  Lynching  was  not  to  be  thought  of  with  Sheriff  Maaon  in  charge  of  the  prisoner  "  —  Page  103 


FRANCES  111 

Mr.  Scranton  then  went  on,  resuming  his  natural  tone  :  "  Jos- 
selyn*s  father  and  mother  are  now  in  Denver.  They  brought  on  one 
of  the  greatest  lawyers  from  New  York  to  help  fight  the  case.  And 
that  reminds  me.  Another  curious  thing  about  it  is  that  Josselyn 
isn't  the  boy's  name  at  all.  It  seems  he  ran  away  from  New  York 
for  some  reason  or  other,  under  an  assumed  name.  He  is  pure  grit, 
and  when  he  got  into  this  scrape  last  year,  never  revealed  his  identity 
nor  sent  word  to  his  folks.^  There  was  such  a  mystery  about  the 
little  chap,  and  the  newspapers  had  so  much  concerning  the  case,  that 
after  the  trial  was  over  the  New  York  Herald  had  a  big  write-up  of 
it,  and  from  what  it  said,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  James  were  sure  —  " 

"  Whom  did  you  say  ?  "  Frances  cried,  leaning  forward,  all 
excitement. 

"  Why,  a  Mr.  and  Mrs.  James  of  New  York.  They  came  out 
here  and  found  that  the  Tenderfoot  was  really  their  son  Jerome." 

Frances  fell  back  in  her  chair,  limp.  A  moan  escaped  her,  as 
she  fainted. 

The  next  morning  Frances  was  not  able  to  rise.  She  seemed 
to  have  lost  entirely  that  spirit  of  hopefulness,  which  in  the  consump- 
tive becomes  more  and  more  abnormally  optimistic  the  nearer  the 
approach  of  death.  Of  no  sufferer  is  it  more  true  than  in  this  disease 
that  "  hope  springs  eternal  in  the  human  breast."  But  when  hope 
itself  is  dead,  when  the  heart  is  broken,  life  indeed  approaches  its  end. 

"  Uncle,  I  want  you  to  send  for  Gladys  Sanderson.  I  must 
see  her  before  I  die.  Oh,  you  needn't  protest.  My  race  is  run.  I 
can't  live  much  longer.  But  I  have  one  more  thing  to  do.  Oh,  I'm 
so  glad  I  came  out  here  !  It  is  strange  how  we  cling  to  life,  how  we 
fight  for  it.  Yet  it  is  beautiful  to  prepare  for  death,  when  we  feel 
it's  coming." 

When  Gladys  Sanderson  called  that  afternoon,  the  contrast 
between  the  two  was  the  contrast  between  life  and  death.  Disap- 
pointment, sorrow,  grief  and  sickness  were  depicted  on  the  emaciated 
countenance  of  the  invalid,  suffused,  however,  by  a  peculiar  charm 
that  glorified  the  individuality  of  the  dying  woman.     Gladys,  on  the 


112  HATE    AND    LOVE 

other  hand,  was  in  the  full  enjoyment  of  physical  magnificence  and 
purity,  reinforced  by  a  character  and  will  and  soul  born  of  the  tribu- 
lations through  which  she  was  passing. 

The  young  women  seemed  to  understand  and  trust  each  other 
instinctively  before  a  word  was  spoken,  the  more  so  as  Gladys  had 
been  somewhat  informed  by  Mr.  Upcraft  about  Frances  and  her 
history. 

Seating  herself  by  the  bed,  Gladys  drew  the  weak  hand  of  her 
sister  into  her  own  palms  pulsing  with  life  and  love.  She  was,  indeed, 
all  tenderness.  All  conventions  and  mannerisms  faded  away.  They 
were  just  two  women's  hearts  laid  bare  to  each  other,  both  animated 
by  a  single  desire. 

"  It  is  so  sweet  of  you  to  come,"  Frances  whispered,  with  her 
beautiful  smile.     "  How  we  both  love  him  !  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Gladys,  simply,  unable  to  utter  more.  Her  emo- 
tions expressed  themselves  more  forcibly  than  in  words.  Then, 
collecting  herself,  she  said  : 

"  But  of  course  you  know  he  is  innocent." 

"  Indeed  he  is  —  as  innocent  of  this  crime  as  he  was  of  the 
evil  of  which  I  accused  him,"  Frances  responded,  with  an  effort. 
Then,  gathering  strength,  she  sat  up  in  bed  and  spoke  with  almost 
fierce  animation  : 

"  I  did  not  know  how  much  I  loved  him.  I  was  a  foolish  girl. 
I  did  not  know  what  life  was.  I  could  not  recognize  true  virtue.  My 
money,  my  little  narrow  life,  seemed  all  in  all  to  me.  But  how  I 
have  been  punished  for  my  mistake  !  To  think  that  I  should  have 
married  such  a  thing  as  Rudolph,  instead  !  Oh,  his  was  a  miserable 
nature.  I  could  not  endure  him.  After  a  wretched  year,  we  were 
divorced.  He  said  it  was  because  I  still  loved  Jerome,  and  that  he 
would  wreak  vengeance  on  that  man  yet.  The  villain  is  out  west 
here  now.  Perhaps  he  is  the  animus  behind  this  prosecution  of 
Jerome.  If  not,  Rudolph  will  later  find  some  means  of  injuring  him. 
Beware  of  that  man."     And  she  sank  back  exhausted  by  the  effort. 

As  Gladys  listened  to  this  confession,  she  seemed  transfigured 


FRANCES  lid 

by  an  heroic  impulse.  (Why  is  a  woman's  love  so  often  measured 
by  her  sacrifices  ? )  Gladys  did  not  attempt  to  restrain  the  grandeur 
of  her  heart. 

"  Why  do  you  speak  like  that  ?  "  she  said  quickly.  "  You  are 
going  to  get  well.  Jerome  will  be  acquitted.  You  two  will  be 
married,  as  you  ought  to  be.     He  belongs  to  you." 

Her  self-renunciation  was  glory ful. 

"  No,  no,  it  cannot  be  so.  My  life  is  out.  I  would  not  have 
it  back  if  I  could.  You  are  the  more  worthy.  Only  —  sometime  — 
when  you  are  home  together  —  think  of  me,"  Frances  whispered 
faintly,  wistfully. 

Then  she  passed  on  into  the  great  Beyond,  so  gently  none 
knew  until  the  voyage  was  over.  The  charm  of  Love  still  hovered 
about  the  beautiful  face,  typified  also  in  the  delicate  hands  now 
calmly  folded  across  a  true  heart  that  had  ceased  to  beat. 


But  of  all  this  Josselyn  was  allowed  to  remain  in  ignorance. 

"  Wait  until  the  trial  is  over,  before  we  tell  him,"  his  mother 
urged  with  intuitive  wisdom. 

*'  It  is  better  so,"  the  father  replied.  "  God  knows  the  poor 
boy  has  enough  to  worry  about  already,  without  laying  this  new  grief 
upon  him." 


PART  Two 

Hate  and  Love 

SCENE  Three 

Trial  of 

the  Tenderfoot 


bo 

S 

B 


o 
O 


Trial  of  the  Tenderfoot 


HEN  the  court  coiiv^ened,  the  follow- 
ing Monday,  popular  interest  was  at 
fever  heat. 

The  trial  was  held  in  the  grout 
building,  that  had  been  transformed 
from  a  livery  stable  for  the  court, 
because  it  was  the  largest  structure  in 
the  county.  The  horse  stalls  had  been 
removed,  making  the  whole  of  the  first 
floor  available.  A  jury  room  had  been  partitioned  off  in  the  further 
corner,  the  prisoner's  dock  was  on  the  other  side,  and  between  them 
the  judge's  bench,  which  that  dignitary  reached  through  the  rear 
door.  There  were  two  windows  at  the  side  near  the  prisoner's  dock 
and  four  windows  at  the  end.     Rude  benches  were  erected  in  front 


120  HATEANDLOVE 

and  at  the  sides  to  accommodate  the  crowds.  The  haymows  above 
were  partly  filled  with  wheat  straw  and  alfalfa  hay/^  some  of  it  baled, 
some  loose.  Lanterns  were  suspended  from  the  rafters,  or  from  the 
timbers  in  the  bays. 

The  big  front  doors  of  the  structure  were  thrown  wide  open. 
The  overland  stage  coach,  that  had  long  been  stored  at  one  side  of  the 
doorway,  had  been  run  out  into  the  corral  at  the  left,  which  contained 
also  some  wagons,  a  prairie  schooner  and  sets  of  wheels. 

An  old  poster  of  "  Jacks  for  Sale  "  adorned  the  front  of  the 
stable.  Around  it  were  various  announcements  of  "  Lost,  Strayed  or 
Stolen,"  some  stud-horse  posters  and  a  somewhat  defaced  advertise- 
ment which  read,  "  $100  Reward,  Alive  or  Dead,"  offered  for  an 
alleged  horse  thief.  The  corral  at  the  right  had  been  fenced  off  to 
accommodate  the  horses.  For  a  background  there  were  a  few  cotton- 
wood  trees  near  the  river,  while  off  to  the  left  a  glimpse  could  be  had 
of  "Ditch  No.  1." 

Judge  Howes  was  a  character  who  fittingly  supplemented  the 
setting  of  the  court.  One  of  the  oldest  pioneers  in  the  territory,  he 
had  been  an  active  participant  in  many  thrilling  exploits  of  the  ear- 
lier times.  He  was  recognized  for  his  absolute  fearlessness,  brusque 
manner  and  ability  to  instill  into  even  the  most  hardened  desperado 
respect  for  the  court. 

It  is  narrated  that  early  in  his  career  on  the  bench,  a  notorious 
character,  who  had  somehow  secreted  on  his  person  a  revolver,  was 
arraigned  for  murder  before  Judge  Howes.  The  desperado  bided 
his  time,  and  just  as  the  case  was  going  to  the  jury,  drew  his  pistol 
to  kill  the  judge.  But  Howes  was  still  quicker  in  using  the  revolver 
that  always  lay  before  him  on  the  bench,  shot  the  prisoner  before  he 
could  pull  the  trigger,  and  then,  turning  to  the  sheriff",  unconcernedly 
said,  with  the  usual  formality,  "  Next  case  !  " 

Sanderson's  friends  were  present  in  great  numbers,  filling 
more  than  three-quarters  of  the  seats  reserved  for  the  audience,  while 
only  a  handful  represented  Josselyn's  friends  in  one  corner  of  the 
spacious  room.     Some  comment  was  created  on  both  sides  because. 


TRIAL    OF    THE    TENDERFOOT  121 

while  Grandmother  Sanderson  was  present,  she  sat  alone  and  was 
not  accompanied  by  Gladys. 

The  array  of  legal  talent  was  the  greatest  ever  seen  in  a 
Colorado  court  up  to  that  time.  The  chief  prosecutor  was  Herbert 
Preston,  district  attorney,  whose  characteristic  boldness  of  expression 
and  loudness  of  voice  found  full  play  before  the  trial  was  concluded. 
He  was  tall  and  lank,  with  the  jawbone  of  a  whale,  the  voice  of  a 
foghorn,  and  the  "  nerve  of  a  government  mule."  What  he  lacked 
in  law  was  made  up  in  assurance.  Possessed  of  an  inexhaustible 
supply  of  nervous  energy  and  muscular  force,  the  gyrations  of  his 
arms,  his  jerky  steps,  his  constantly  changing  poses,  and  the  now 
impressive,  now  ludicrous,  manner  in  which  he  attempted  to  brow- 
beat or  cajole  witness,  jury  and  judge,  were  a  sight  to  behold. 

To  the  old  settlers,  'Squire  Preston,  with  his  cowboy  clothes 
and  sombrero,  was  a  "great  lawyer,"  but  to  others  he  wasn't  —  yet 
through  one  of  the  mysteries  of  the  psychology  of  politics,  when 
nominated  for  office,  he  was  sure  to  win,  no  matter  which  party  put 
him  up,  and  he  was  not  too  bashful  to  accept  a  candidacy  from  one 
party  when  refused  it  by  the  other  !  "  I  have  worked  up  to  this 
high  position,"  he  sometimes  remarked  with  pride,  "from  the  humble 
vocation  of  clerk  to  a  stone-mason  "  —  poetic  reference  to  his  early 
activities  as  hod-carrier. 

The  very  antithesis  of  this  swashbuckler  of  the  plains  was 
Donald  Whiting  of  New  York,  chief  counsel  for  the  defense.  Though 
not  a  party  to  the  first  trial,  his  ability  was  at  once  recognized  by 
the  local  lawyers  when  he  had  come  west  to  look  into  the  case  for 
the  retrial,  at  the  earnest  request  of  his  old  friend,  Mr.  James,  Senior, 
father  of  the  prisoner.  Mr.  Whiting  dressed  with  scrupulous  care  in 
the  latest  metropolitan  style,  even  to  a  silk  hat  and  patent  leathers. 
His  first  appearance  in  court  evidently  had  an  unfavorable  effect  upon 
the  jury,  as  it  certainly  did  upon  the  populace,  whose  prejudices  were 
aroused  by  his  bearing  and  dress.  But  the  indefinable  power  of  the 
man  soon  made  one  and  all  oblivious  to  his  fashionable  appearance. 

Quiet,  imperturbable,  self-contained,  plain  of  speech,  with  none 


122  HATEANDLOVE 

of  the  arts  of  oratory,  and  apparently  lacking  in  persuasive  power, 
Lawer  Whiting  was  so  quick  to  seize  upon  every  favorable  point,  so 
vigorous,  yet  simple,  in  pressing  fact  and  argument  upon  judge  and 
jury,  so  subtle  and  confiding  with  the  witnesses,  keener  than  lightning 
to  hit  the  other  side  at  every  exposure  of  a  weak  spot,  that  more  than 
once  even  Sanderson's  friends  found  themselves  carried  away  with 
admiring  fascination  for  the  man.  Their  spontaneous  applause  of 
one  of  his  coups,  though  sternly  repressed  by  the  court,  was  wonderful 
testimony  to  the  influence  of  a  giant  intellect. 

It  was  anticipated  that  much  time  would  be  occupied  in  obtain- 
ing a  jury,  even  that  a  change  of  venue  might  be  demanded.  But 
here  the  first  surprise  occurred,  for  Mr.  Whiting  only  challenged  two 
men  —  young  fellows  about  town  who  appeared  rather  irresponsible, 
while  the  prosecution  challenged  all  whose  answers  showed  an  absence 
of  bias  against  the  defendant.  Lawyer  Whiting's  inquiries  were 
designed  more  to  bring  out  habit  of  mind  and  general  characteristics. 
Ten  of  the  twelve  men  finally  accepted  were  ranchmen,  and  most 
of  them,  probably,  had  a  predilection  against  the  prisoner,  but  the 
country-man  holds  his  duty  peculiarly  sacred,  once  he  has  sworn  to 
perform  it,  and  the  astute  metropolitan  attorney  had  learned  from 
long  experience  that  twelve  intelligent,  honest.  God-fearing  farmers 
usually  comprised  the  best  jury  it  was  possible  to  obtain  in  a  murder 
case  where  only  justice  was  sought. 

Of  course  Josselyn  was  the  most  interested  person  present. 
He  followed  every  detail  of  the  prosecution  with  the  keenness  of  one 
whose  very  existence  is  at  stake.  Sheriff  Mason  and  several  deputies 
had  brought  him  up  from  the  Denver  jail  only  a  couple  of  days 
before,  and  an  additional  force  of  deputies  were  on  duty  at  the  trial 
and  at  the  county  prison,  to  provide  against  any  demonstration  that 
might  be  attempted  against  the  prisoner. 

Josselyn  was  pale  from  his  long  confinement,  and  somewhat 
heavier  for  want  of  exercise,  but  his  clear  eye  was  as  honest  as  ever, 
and  his  whole  bearing  bespoke  his  innocence.  He  sat  facing  the 
jury.     No  emotion  of  fear,  dread  or  hate  clouded  his  countenance,  as 


TRIAL     OF    THE    TENDERFOOT  123 

the  prosecution  presented  its  damaging  evidence,  but  while  alert  to 
catch  every  point,  only  a  clear  conscience  was  reflected  in  the  young 
face.  Nor  did  Josselyn  reveal  by  nervous  movements  the  tension  he 
was  under.  Indeed,  his  conduct  was  such  as  to  afford  no  aid  to  his 
conviction. 

When  the  prosecution  rested,  it  was  apparent,  even  to  Josselyn's 
friends,  that  his  chances  were  slim  indeed.  The  chain  of  evidence 
against  him  was  complete,  though  largely  circumstantial,  and  in  the 
absence  of  eye  witnesses  who  could  swear  to  the  exact  conditions 
under  which  the  killing  occurred,  the  prisoner's  life  hung  by  a  thread. 

The  defense  opened  tamely.  Mr.  Whiting  merely  stated  that 
both  sides  had  agreed  to  admit  the  fact  of  the  death  of  Al  Peters  and 
of  "  Chuck  "  Witham,  who  had  witnessed  the  tragedy  ;  also  that  the 
records  of  the  previous  trial  had  been  destroyed  in  the  court  house  fire. 

Sheriff*  Mason  was  sworn,  and  testified  that  he  had  been  unable 
to  subpoena  or  find  any  trace  of  the  cowboy  known  as  "  Sam,"  or  the 
prospector,  Griswold,  the  other  chief  witnesses  for  the  defense.  He 
also  declared  that  there  had  been  no  heat  or  light  in  the  court  house 
prior  to  the  time  of  the  conflagration. 

It  looked  as  though  no  defense  was  to  be  attempted.  The 
audience  were  nonplussed.  Preston  and  his  associates  could  hardly 
repress  their  satisfaction. 

G.  D.  Henry,  editor  of  the  Standard^  was  next  sworn.  He 
testified  that  he  had  attended  each  session  of  the  first  trial,  that  he 
had  taken  notes  in  full  of  the  testimony  given  by  Peters,  Witham, 
"  Sam  "  and  Griswold,  as  well  as  of  the  other  witnesses,  and  had  pub- 
lished the  same  in  his  newspaper.  He  further  declared  that,  about 
three  months  ago,  his  office  had  been  entered  by  thieves  and  the  files 
of  the  Standard  stolen,  and  that  he  had  been  unable  to  find  anywhere 
(either  in  his  office  or  out  of  it)  a  copy  of  the  issue  containing  his 
report  of  the  trial.  He  stated  that  no  other  newspaper  had  printed 
anything  like  a  full  report. 

W.  N.  Garbutt  then  testified  that  he  was  a  subscriber  to  the 
Standard.     A  stranger  had  called  at  his  ranch  several  weeks  after 


124  HATEANDLOVE 

the  first  trial,  ostensibly  to  buy  cattle.  During  their  conversation, 
it  was  natural  that  this  case  should  be  mentioned.  The  stranger 
casually  inquired  if  they  had  a  copy  of  the  Standard  containing  the 
report  of  the  trial,  and  upon  its  being  brought  out,  had  carelessly 
tucked  it  in  his  pocket,  "  to  read  when  we  get  through  our  business," 
he  remarked,  but  had  failed  to  return  it. 

Half  a  dozen  other  witnesses  were  put  on,  whose  evidence  went 
to  show  that  a  quiet  but  persistent  effort  had  been  under  way,  ever 
since  the  first  trial,  to  destroy  every  copy  of  the  Standard  that  reported 
it.  No  amount  of  cross-questioning  could  dispose  of  this  evidence, 
but  its  effect  upon  the  jury  was  in  no  wise  revealed  in  their  faces. 

Editor  Henry  was  again  called  to  the  stand. 

"  Do  you  recognize  this  ?  "  Mr.  Whiting  quietly  asked,  hand- 
ing the  witness  a  soiled  and  partially  mutilated  newspaper. 

Looking  at  it  in  surprise,  the  witness  answered  :  "  Yes,  it  is  a 
copy  of  the  Fort  Collins  Standard  published  a  year  ago,  and  contains 
my  report  of  the  first  trial." 

"  Will  you  read  it  ?  "  Mr.  Whiting  asked. 

"  I  object,  your  honor,"  yelled  Preston,  jumping  to  his  feet,  his 
face  livid  with  the  emotions  of  a  man  angry  because  he  feels  himself 
outwitted. 

"  What  travesty  is  this  that  seeks  to  introduce  mere  newspaper 
report  as  competent  testimony  regarding  a  capital  crime  ?  What 
effrontery  to  even  attempt  to  substitute  newspaper  hearsay  for 
the  testimony  of  witnesses  !  Could  anything  be  more  illegal,  your 
Honor  ?  Surely  you  will  never  assent  to  this  amazing  presumption 
of  the  other  side." 

And  Preston  proceeded  to  cite  the  usual  authorities  in  support 
of  the  elementary  principles  governing  the  admission  of  evidence. 

"  May  it  please  the  court,"  Mr.  Whiting  replied,  in  a  peculiarly 
effective  tone,  "  even  assuming  the  truth  of  what  you  have  heard 
from  my  learned  friend,  it  does  not  apply  to  this  case  —  and  for  these 
reasons." 

He  began  by  citations  from  decisions  in  England,  going  back 


TRIAL    OF    THE    TENDERFOOT  125 

a  hundred  years,  reinforced  them  by  quoting  numerous  opinions  in 
point  rendered  by  the  supreme  courts  of  the  eastern  states,  and  con- 
cluded with  a  panegyric  on  the  jurisprudence  of  the  old  Bay  State  as 
he  cited  the  views  of  the  Massachusetts  supreme  court  in  Egbert  vs. 
Yale,^"  decided  in  1873,  some  two  years  previous. 

*'  But,  your  honor,"  continued  Mr.  Whiting,  with  still  greater 
force,  "  let  us  go  yet  higher,  to  the  United  States  district  courts,  aye, 
to  that  august  seat  of  final  authority,  the  United  States  supreme 
court  itself,  and  you  will  find  that  absolute,  exact  and  fearless  justice 
demands  the  adrtiission  of  the  evidence  we  offer.  Why,  it  was  as  early 
as  1818  that  Judge  Washington,  later  one  of  the  justices  of  the 
United  States  supreme  court,  decided  in  an  exactly  parallel  case  : 
*  The  witness  may  refresh  his  memory  from  notes  which  he  took  of 
the  evidence  at  the  trial,  or  from  a  newspaper  printed  by  himself 
containing  the  evidence  as  taken  down  by  the  witness.'  " 

There  was  scurrying  among  the  lawyers  for  the  prosecution, 
in  an  effort  to  find  authorities  that  might  offset  the  exhaustive 
citations  of  the  defense.  Much  time  was  occupied  by  these  techni- 
calities, for  the  battle  of  opposing  counsel  waged  long  and  furiously, 
but  at  length  the  judge  allowed  the  witness  to  read  the  report,  and 
also  directed  that  the  newspaper  itself  should  be  given  to  the  jury. 

But  Preston  was  not  to  be  thwarted.  The  editor  had  testified 
that  he  had  taken  his  notes  at  the  first  trial  with  his  own  hand,  had 
written  them  out  in  extenso,  and  there  was  no  doubt  in  his  mind  as 
to  the  absolute  correctness  of  the  record  as  published.  Yet  on  cross- 
examination,  the  prosecution  quickly  forced  him  to  admit  that  he 
could  not  swear  positively  that  the  report  was  printed  exactly  as  he 
had  written  it.  In  putting  in  type  and  "  making-up,"  there  might 
or  might  not  have  been  errors  or  omissions. 

The  defense  was  not  caught  napping,  however,  for  Whiting's 
question  enabled  the  witness  to  add  that,  if  such  errors  had  occurred, 
they  were  unimportant,  and  that  from  his  own  recollection  he  knew 
the  statement  was  substantially  correct. 

Osgood,  the  editor's  son,  was  now  called  to  the  stand.     The 


126  HATE    AND    LOVE 

boy  gave  his  testimony  in  a  manner  that  carried  conviction  as  to  his 
honesty  and  sincerity,  while  his  bearing  indicated  blissful  ignorance 
of  the  fact  that  Josselyn's  life  perhaps  hung  on  his  words,  or  that  his 
own  life  was  in  danger  from  Josselyn's  enemies. 

"  Did  you  put  your  father's  report  in  type  verbatim  et  literatim  1 " 
the  lawyer  asked. 

"  I  set  it  up  exactly  as  it  was  written,  if  that  is  what  you  mean," 
the  boy  replied. 

"  Didn't  you  change  it  at  all  ?  " 

"  No." 

"  Why  not  ?  " 

"  Because  I  knew  I'd  get  a  licking  if  I  did  !  " 

Josselyri  was  now  sworn,  every  neck  in  the  audience  being 
craned  to  get  a  good  look  at  him,  as  with  a  manly  air  he  stepped  into 
the  witness  stand.  In  his  open,  boyish  manner,  he  told  the  story  of 
the  shooting,  in  simple  and  quiet  words,  narrating  also  the  various 
circumstances  previously  in  which  Sanderson  had  shown  hatred  and 
malignity  toward  him.  In  no  detail  was  his  story  shaken  upon  cross- 
examination. 

Questions  put  by  the  defense,  with  a  view  to  making  the  wit- 
ness declare  that  some  special  enemy  must  have  been  instrumental 
in  making  away  with  the  witness  and  the  evidence  of  the  first  trial, 
were  sternly  ruled  out  by  the  judge.  "  It  is  competent  to  introduce 
evidence  upon  that  point,  but  opinions  only,  mere  statements  of  what 
the  defendant  thought,  are  not  pertinent,"  pronounced  the  court. 

"  May  the  witness  answer  this  question,  your  Honor,"  asked 
Mr.  Whiting,  concluding  the  cross-examination  :  "  From  the  actions, 
attitude,  appearance  and  bearing  of  Sanderson  as  his  hand  was  raised 
the  second  time  to  knife  you,  and  from  your  previous  experience  with 
and  knowledge  of  the  man,  were  you  satisfied  that  he  meant  to 
kill  you  ?  " 

"  I  object,"  interrupted  Preston.  "  I  submit  that  under  the 
court's  ruling  just  rendered,  the  whole  question  is  incompetent." 

Whiting  made  no  reply  —  he  only  looked  at  the  judge  with 


TRIAL    OF    THE    TENDERFOOT  127 

that  inscrutable  gaze  which  was  characteristic  of  the  great  lawyer 
in  a  crisis. 

Pondering  soberly,  while  the  court  room  was  so  quiet  that  a 
stranger  looking  in  might  have  thought  it  all  a  painted  scene,  Judge 
Howes  decided  :  "  Omit  the  words,  '  from  your  previous  experience 
with  and  knowledge  of  the  man,'  and  the  witness  may  answer." 

To  the  question  as  amended  Josselyn  replied  : 

"  I  was  —  I  shot  only  in  self-defense,  as  God  is  my  judge,"  he 
added  solemnly,  raising  his  hand  impressively  and  looking  upward  as 
though  to  call  the  Omnipotent  to  his  aid  right  here  and  now. 

At  the  very  acme  of  this  gesture,  Josselyn's  face,  almost  Christ- 
like in  its  purity,  was  illumined  by  a  beam  of  sunshine  that,  breaking 
through  the  clouds,  lightened  up  the  witness  and  threw  its  mellow  ray 
over  judge  and  jury  like  a  benediction. 

It  was  all  so  sudden,  so  beautiful,  that  the  audience  were  spell- 
bound, until  the  harmony  was  broken  by  Preston's  grating  voice, 
though  in  almost  awe-struck  tones  : 

"  Will  the  court  strike  out  all  after  '  I  was,'  in  that  answer  ?  " 

"  The  reply  will  stand,"  Judge  Howes  murmured,  unable  to 
wholly  control  his  emotion. 

Almost  before  Preston  had  concluded,  attention  was  slightly 
distracted  by  the  sound  of  horse's  hoofs  rapidly  approaching,  followed 
by  a  loud  "  whoa,"  in  a  voice  that  sent  an  electric  vibration  through- 
out the  court  room.  As  the  new  arrival  rushed  in  with  scant  cere- 
mony, everybody  looked  in  that  direction  as  though  expecting  a 
denouement,  and  were  not  disappointed  when  the  man's  voice  was 
heard  to  inquire  anxiously,  and  with  hardly  due  deference  to 
the  court : 

"  Where's  the  lawyers  ?     I  want  to  testify  in  defense." 

"  Wait  a  moment,"  Whiting  had  exclaimed  to  Josselyn  as  he 
was  about  to  leave  the  stand.  Then  the  lawyer  turned  to  investigate 
the  interruption. 

It  was  Buckskin  Joe  who  strode  down  the  aisle  and  conferred 
with  Whiting  in  hurried  whispers.     Jumping  to  his  feet  again : 


128  HATE    AND    LOVE 

"  Just  another  question,  Josselyn,"  the  lawyer  said,  stepping 
closer  and  asking  gravely  : 

"  Have  you  an  enemy  who  is  disposed  to  injure  you  ?  " 

"  Object,"  cried  Preston. 

"  Admitted,"  responded  the  court. 

Josselyn  replied  sadly,  as  his  face  fell : 

"  I  regret  to  say  I  have  —  in  New  York." 

"  What  is  his  name  ?  " 

"  Henry  Rudolph." 

"  What  was  the  occasion  for  this  enmity  ?  "  Preston  sneer- 
ingly  inquired. 

"  Am  I  obliged  to  answer  ?  "  asked  Josselyn,  blushing,  as  he 
appealed  to  the  court. 

"  The  question  is  proper,"  Judge  Howes  replied. 

With  noticeable  effort  and  much  feeling,  the  witness  stam- 
mered out : 

"  He  believes  I  won  away  from  him  the  love  of  the  heiress  he 
wished  to  marry." 

A  sensation  swept  over  the  people  at  this  reply,  for  Gladys' 
attitude  toward  the  young  man  had  long  been  common  talk,  and  was 
fully  recognized  by  all  except  the  object  of  it. 

"  That  is  all,  Josselyn,"  said  Mr.  Whiting,  gently. 

Preston  nodded  in  the  affirmative,  but  wonderingly. 

Buckskin  Joe  was  now  sworn.  As  he  took  the  stand,  it  was 
evident  from  his  appearance  that  the  witness  had  ridden  hard  and 
fast.  The  fact  that  he  had  not  been  in  the  vicinity  for  months,  and 
that  his  entrance  had  been  so  dramatic  in  its  timeliness,  added  an 
extraordinary  interest  to  the  various  emotions  of  the  audience  which 
already  had  been  so  stirred  by  this  remarkable  trial.  In  spite  of  dirt 
and  dust,  Joe's  bearing  commanded  admiration,  and  one  of  the  young 
women  present  —  Amelia  Vandewark  —  quite  lost  in  the  surprise  and 
joy  of  seeing  him  again,  said  so  audibly  as  to  be  distinctly  heard : 

"  Oh,  isn't  he  splendid ! »  '  . 


TRIAL    OF    THE    TENDERFOOT 


129 


Joe's  natural  brevity  of  speech  required  many  questions  to 
bring  out  what  he  had  to  tell  —  it  was  not  much,  but  enough  ! 

"  I  have  been  on  Wyoming  ranges,"  Buckskin  Joe's  story 
began.  "  Couple  of  days  ago,  came  into  Laramie  City  to  liquor  up. 
In  saloon  overheard  two  cowboys  talking  —  they  were  just  drunk 
enough  to  be  boastful.  The  one  called  Bud  said  :  '  I'm  a  better  shot 
than  you.'  Other  feller  swore  :  *  Not  by  a  damn  sight.  Why,  I  shot 
Al  Peters  twice  in  the  same  place.'  Bud  answers  :  '  Oh,  come  off, 
Rudolph.'  I  pulled  my  gun,  when  another  feller  behind  me  grabbed 
my  hand,  snatched  my  revolver  and  sang  out :  '  Run  for  it.'  The 
three  hasn't  been  seen  since.     I  jumped  on  my  horse  and  rode  here." 

Josselyn,  for  once  off  his  guard,  started  at  the  mention  of 
Rudolph's  name,  thunderstruck.  The  jury,  too,  betrayed  profound 
interest  in  Joe's  statement. 

"  We  are  through,  your  Honor,"  said  Lawyer  Whiting,  so 
abruptly  that  the  prosecution  had  no  more  questions  to  ask. 


Round-up :     Branding  calf  on  the  prairie 


130  HATEANDLOVE 

The  people  went  away,  wondering  and  excited,  for,  it  being 
now  quite  late  in  the  afternoon,  the  court  adjourned  until  the  morrow. 

The  arguments  of  counsel  were  notable,  and  consumed  most 
of  the  following  day.  In  his  address  to  the  jury,  Mr.  Whiting  skill- 
fully weaved  into  an  effective  whole  the  relations  of  Sanderson  and 
Josselyn,  from  the  very  first  down  to  the  moment  of  the  fatal  shot. 
He  then  pictured  the  systematic  manner  and  thoroughness  with  which 
the  witnesses  for  the  defense  had  been  disposed  of  since  the  first  trial, 
and  of  the  efforts  to  destroy  every  trace  of  the  record  of  their  evidence. 

"  Some  Master  Mind  has  been  engaged  in  this  nefarious  con- 
spiracy—  some  malignant  enemy  has  been  its  directing  force.  Was 
it  this  man  Rudolph,  who,  by  a  fortunate  circumstance,  we  know  to 
have  been  Al  Peters'  murderer.  What  was  Rudolph's  motive  ? 
Thanks  to  the  inquiries  of  the  prosecuting  attorney,"  he  remarked 
with  sarcastic  inflection,  "  you  now  know  that  Rudolph's  enmity  is 
based  on  defeat  in  love  and  fortune.  With  certain  natures  defeat  of 
this  kind  causes  a  deadly  resentment  that  hesitates  at  nothing  for 
revenge. 

"  The  mystery  surrounding  this  case  is  by  no  means  yet 
solved,"  continued  Mr.  Whiting,  "  but  enough  is  known  to  justify 
you  gentlemen  of  the  jury  in  believing  that  the  same  hand  which 
killed  Peters  also  assassinated  Witham,  broke  open  the  vault,  stole 
the  testimony,  and  set  fire  to  the  court  house.  The  same  intellect 
directed  the  destruction  of  the  only  newspaper  that  fully  reported 
the  first  trial.  The  malignity  of  purpose  that  has  thus  sought  to 
convict  the  defendant  should  rather  count  in  his  favor." 

Proceeding  to  weigh  the  evidence,  piece  by  piece,  Lawyer 
Whiting  concluded  with  a  peroration  for  justice  to  his  client,  which 
was  all  the  more  remarkable  because  of  its  convincing  simplicity  and 
naturalness  of  utterance,  in  direct  contrast  to  the  "  oratory  "  employed 
by  Preston. 

It  was  nearly  two  o'clock  when  the  arguments  were  finished. 
"  The  jury  may  be  excused  until  four  thirty,"  Judge  Howes  remarked, 
as  he  ordered  a  recess  for  lunch. 


TRIAL    OF    THE    TENDERFOOT  131 

Long  before  the  appointed  hour,  the  court  room  was  densely 
packed.  At  half-past  four  sharp,  the  jury  filed  in.  Each  man  had 
carefully  brushed,  washed  and  combed,  as  though  to  better  equip  him 
for  his  solemn  duty  —  for  only  those  who  have  acted  as  jurymen  in 
capital  cases  can  fully  appreciate  the  gravity  of  these  men's  minds. 

Judge  Howes  summed  up  the  case  at  great  length,  with  rare 
discrimination,  but  with  exact  justice.  The  animus  of  those  whose 
efforts  were  directed  toward  preventing  the  defendant  from  substan- 
tiating his  own  evidence  with  that  of  eye-witnesses  had  little  if  any- 
thing to  do  with  the  real  merits  of  this  case.  "  Did  the  defendant 
shoot  in  justifiable  self-defense  ?  That  is  the  question  for  the  jury 
to  decide." 

In  his  review  of  the  testimony,  the  court  laid  special  stress  on 
the  evidence  of  the  editor  and  his  son  Osgood,  indicating  that  the 
verdict  would  depend  partly,  if  not  largely,  upon  the  credence  given 
to  the  report  in  the  Standard.  Copious  instructions  followed  on  the 
various  points  raised  by  counsel,  all  given  with  a  lucidity  and  com- 
prehensiveness that  were  the  marvel  of  those  who  heard  the  judge  and 
who  knew  his  lack  of  education.  It  was  a  fine  illustration  of  the 
truth  that  the  normal  human  mind  possesses  the  wonderful  iaculty  of 
rising  to  the  necessities  of  any  important  occasion  —  this  independent 
of  book  learning  or  so-called  culture. 

"  And  now,  Mr.  Foreman,"  concluded  Judge  Howes,  "  you  will 
please  retire  and  agree  upon  a  verdict." 

The  sun  had  set  some  time  since.  Twilight  gathered.  The 
court  ordered  the  lanterns  to  be  lit.  The  interest  was  too  keen  to 
allow  any  of  the  audience  to  depart.  In  the  flickering  light  could 
be  seen  the  bearded  faces  of  Sanderson's  friends,  many  of  them  armed 
to  the  teeth,  who  showed  in  their  demeanor  a  ferocity  that  augured 
ill  for  the  prisoner,  whatever  the  verdict  might  be.  In  one  corner 
were  Josselyn's  parents,  lawyers  and  a  few  of  his  friends.  Outside, 
the  moonlight  cast  a  mysterious  glow  over  the  landscape,  in  which 
the  Cottonwood  trees  appeared,  through  the  rear  windows,  like  darkly 
shrouded  ghosts  waiting  for  their  victim. 


132  HATE    AND    LOVE 

A  noise  was  heard  from  the  jury  room  —  a  shuffling  of  feet 
and  moving  about.     It  was  whispered  : 

"  The  jury  is  ready  to  report." 

This  was  true,  for  a  moment  later  the  sheriff  came  out  from 
the  room,  followed  by  the  jury,  who  filed  solemnly  into  their  places. 

There  was  a  silence  like  death.  You  could  have  heard  a  pin 
drop.  Even  the  breathing  of  the  people  was  distinctly  audible.  The 
faces  of  both  sides  hardened,  eyes  glittered,  hands  reached  for  their 
revolvers.  The  tension  was  awful,  heightened  by  the  feeble  light 
within  and  the  weird  effect  of  the  moonlight  without. 

"  Have  you  agreed  upon  a  verdict,  Mr.  Foreman  ?  "  asked 
the  judge. 

"  We  have,  your  Honor.'* 

"  What  is  it  ?  " 

"  We  find  the  prisoner  NOT  guilty." 

The  words  were  hardly  uttered  before  shots,  fired  at  the  lan- 
terns, put  out  the  lights.  There  was  instant  confusion,  and  a  move- 
ment toward  the  prisoner.  The  judge,  unmoved,  proceeded  to  poll 
the  jury,  and  their  replies,  one  by  one,  could  be  heard  faintly  above 
the  confusion.  Deputies  formed  a  guard  about  the  prisoner.  One 
of  the  court  attendants  relit  the  lantern  by  the  judge's  bench.  Mrs. 
James  fell  screaming  into  the  arms  of  her  son,  and  Mr.  James  could 
barely  be  discerned  grasping  his  son's  hand  as  Josselyn  was  discharged 
from  the  dock,  and  pulling  his  wife  away,  as  though  to  free  the  lad 
from  her  embrace. 

Sheriff  Mason  was  a  man  always  prepared  for  emergencies. 
In  the  darkness,  he  hustled  Josselyn  right  through  the  window  back 
of  the  prisoner's  dock. 

The  boy  was  dazed  by  the  fall,  but  the  deputies  who  followed 
quickly,  mounted  him  on  a  horse  that  stood  by,  adding  : 

"  Now  ride  for  your  life  !  These  friends  will  go  with  you," 
indicating  two  other  riders. 

As  the  three  galloped  by  the  rear  of  the  building,  those  within 
could  see  them  as  they  passed  the  windows,  and  set  up  a  shout  —  a 


O 


TRIAL    OF    THE    TENDERFOOT  135 

cry  of  joy  on  the  part  of  Josselyn's  friends,  a  howl  for  vengeance 
from  his  enemies. 

Making  for  a  little  used  ford  across  the  Cache  la  Poudre,  the 
fugitives  struck  the  upper  trail  for  Cheyenne,  in  a  race  for  the  over- 
land express  to  the  east  on  the  Union  Pacific  railroad. 

In  the  confusion,  it  was  some  time  before  Josselyn's  enemies 
made  up  a  posse  in  pursuit.  More  time  was  lost  in  sensing  the  direc- 
tion he  had  taken.  These  circumstances  gave  the  boy  another  chance, 
though  a  desperate  one,  and  right  nobly  he  improved  it. 

When  Josselyn  began  his  wild  ride  for  life,  he  was  inspired 
and  delighted  to  recognize  that  Buckskin  Joe,  on  a  fresh  horse,  was 
one  of  his  companions.  With  customary  economy  of  language,  Joe 
whispered  hoarsely  : 

"  Ride  like  hell !  " 

Which  they  did  with  such  impetuosity  that  Josselyn  at  first 
failed  to  realize  who  the  other  young  man  was  that  rode  his  horse  so 
well.  After  coming  to  his  senses,  however,  Josselyn  instinctively  felt 
the  presence  of  a  powerful  influence,  just  what  he  could  not  define  ; 
but  as  his  eyes  became  accustomed  to  the  moonlight,  something 
familiar  about  the  graceful  riding  of  his  unknown  companion  devel- 
oped into  recognition. 

"  Gladys  !  "  he  cried.     "  How  is  it  that  you  are  here  ?  " 

"  To  save  your  life,"  she  answered.  "  1  have  everything  ar- 
ranged.    Follow  me  and  you  will  yet  be  free.     Not  another  word  !  " 

"  But  tell  me,  Gladys,  —  " 

"  Silence  !     You  will  need  all  your  strength." 

And  it  was  true,  for  dim  in  the  distance  could  be  heard  the 
hoof  beats  of  their  pursuers,  gradually  drawing  nearer  and  nearer  — 
for  sound  travels  far  at  night  in  the  still  air  of  the  Colorado  prairie. 

When  about  halfway  to  their  destination  Josselyn  was  startled 
by  seeing  a  number  of  horsemen  in  front  of  them,  but  Gladys  reas- 
sured him  with  the  information  that  it  was  a  relief  party  she  had 
sent  ahead  to  provide  fresh  mounts.  To  change  horses  was  the  work 
of  a  moment  and  the  mad  race  continued. 


136 


HATE    AND    LOVE 


*'  I  think  you  will  be  in  time  to  catch  the  express,  and  I  will 
slip  away  to  my  aunt's  house  in  the  village,"  Gladys  had  whispered. 
But  her  horse,  catching  his  foot  in  a  gopher  hole,  began  to  go  lame. 

"  Ride  on  for  your  life  !     Don't  mind  me  !  "  she  urged. 

"  Never  !  "  he  said,  and  with  his  companion  slackened  pace  in 
order  to  keep  her  horse  company. 

As  the  lights  of  Cheyenne  came  into  view  across  the  prairie, 
their  pursuers  could  discern  the  Josselyn  party  and  began  to 
shoot  at  them.  The  shots  went  wild,  however,  and  Gladys  put  spurs 
to  her  horse,  urging  him  forward  with  irresistible  energy  in  spite  of 
his  lameness.  As  they  caught  sight  of  the  railroad  station,  she  cried 
in  dismay  : 

"  There  goes  the  train  !     You  are  lost  !  " 

Josselyn  cried  :  "  Not  yet !  You  go  to  your  aunt's  !  And 
you,"  turning  to  Buckskin  Joe,  "  follow  me  !  " 

The  two  cowboys  now  forced  their  horses  right  down  the  track 
after  the  departing  train,  screaming  and  yelling  as  their  pursuers, 
shooting  recklessly,  closed  in  upon  them. 

The  disturbance  attracted  the  attention  of  the  rear  brakeman, 
who,  seeing  their  predicament,  pulled  the  bell  cord,  the  train  slowed 
up  enough  for  Josselyn  and  the  other  cowboy  to  jump  aboard,  and 
they  were  soon  out  of  danger. 


^^IJt-tR!. 


PART  Three 

Military  Department  of 
Dakota 

SCENE  One 

On  Trail  of  the 
Indians 


a 
'a 


be 
a 
vi 


a 


On  Trail  of  the  Indians 


ALTHOUGH  early  in  June,  a  piercing  wind  accompanied  by 
snow  had  made  the  day's  march  a  wearisome  one,  and  glad 
^  enough  were  the  tired  troopers  of  the  gallant  Seventh  cavalry 
to  make  camp  that  night.  Having  forded  the  Little  Missouri 
a  couple  of  days  previous,  the  command  was  now  emerging  from  the 
forbidding  desolation  of  the  Bad  Lands,  which  had  not  been  without 
its  depressing  influence  upon  officers  and  men.  No  trace  of  a  human 
habitation  had  been  seen  since  leaving  Fort  Abraham  Lincoln  nearly 
two  weeks  before. 

With  his  usual  thoughtfulness.  General  Custer  had  ridden 
ahead  with  one  troop  of  the  advance  guard  and  had  selected  an  ideal 
camping  place  on  the  west  bank  of  Beaver  creek.  The  clouds  were 
clearing  away  as  sunset  approached,  and  camp  was  made  with  greater 
alacrity  than  usual,  for  everyone  was  cold  and  hungry. 

As  each  troop  rode  up,  it  swung  into  a  line  facing  the  corre- 
sponding company  of  the  opposite  wing,  dismounted  and  unsaddled, 
dropping  bridles,  blanket  rolls  and  saddles  to  the  ground,  so  that  they 
formed  two  long  rows  of  little  piles  with  a  wide  lane  between  them. 
The  horses  were  roughly  groomed  and  speedily  led  off  to  water,  and 
then  put  out  to  graze.  The  men's  tents  sprang  up  like  magic  —  two 
long  rows  facing  each  other,  on  a  straight  line  made  by  a  picket  rope, 
and  about  three  yards  back  of  the  row  of  saddles. 

At  the  end  furthest  from  the  creek,  the  train  of  150  wagons 
was  imparked  in  semicircular  formation,  the  platoon  of  Gatling  guns 


142        MILITARY    DEPARTMENT     OF    DAKOTA 

in  the  center,  usually  guarded  by  a  detail  from  the  infantry,  of  which 
there  were  two  companies  of  the  Seventeenth,  one  company  of  the  Sixth, 
and  34  men  of  the  Twentieth  United  States  infantry.  These,  in  addi- 
tion to  the  730  men  of  the  Seventh  cavalry,  and  40  Arickaree  or  'Ree 
Indian  scouts,  comprised  the  entire  command,  making  about  950 
officers,  soldiers  and  cavalry,  who,  with  some  250  teamsters  and  pack- 
ers, swelled  the  total  to  about  1200  men.  The  officers'  tents  were 
pitched  on  a  line  about  twenty-five  yards  in  the  rear  of  the  men's,  the 
mess  tents  still  further  back.  Close  to  the  creek,  at  the  end  of  one  of 
the  wings,  headquarters  were  erected. 

The  subsequent  care  and  feeding  of  horses  took  longer  than 
usual  tonight,  and  supper  was  not  served  until  late.  The  customary 
jollification  about  the  camp  fires  was  not  indulged  in,  for  the  brisk 
wind  required  all  embers  to  be  smothered  in  order  to  avoid  prairie  fires. 
Clouds  flitting  ever  more  thickly  added  to  the  gathering  darkness  of 
a  raw,  uncomfortable  night.  Both  men  and  officers  sought  their  beds 
early,  and  even  the  guards  relaxed  their  vigilance,  for  faithful  scouts 
had  reported,  after  scouring  the  country  in  all  directions,  no  Indian 
signs  to  be  found  anywhere. 

But  why  does  this  sinister-appearing  cook  slink  away  from  his 
tent  into  the  blackness,  toward  the  creek  ?  Why  does  he  make  for  a 
clump  of  cottonwoods,  peculiar  because  one  tree,  taller  than  the  rest, 
rises  above  them  like  a  signal  spire  ?  Why  does  he  start  at  every 
sound  ?  Is  it  not  because  he  dreads  both  the  success  and  the  failure 
of  the  desperate  crime  he  has  arranged  to  commit  ? 

It  was  none  other  than  Rudolph,  though  so  degenerated  in 
countenance,  and  so  changed  in  clothing,  as  to  render  impossible 
recognition  on  the  part  of  any  who  had  known  him  in  the  east. 

The  man's  career  downward  in  New  York  had  been  but  briefly 
stayed  by  his  marriage  to  Frances.  All  too  soon  she  had  realized  her 
mistake,  repudiated  him  completely,  and  as  we  have  seen,  was  divorced 
before  the  first  anniversary  of  her  marriage.  As  Rudolph  sank  lower 
and  lower,  he  attributed  his  failure  in  life  wholly  to  Jerome,  and 
really  made  himself  believe  that  innocent  young  man  had  "  robbed  " 


ON    TRAIL    OF    THE    INDIANS  143 

him  of  his  wife  and  money.  Rudolph's  waning  fortune  had  forced 
him  west  when  the  New  York  police  became  too  closely  interested  in 
his  operations.  He  had  reached  Denver  about  the  time  of  the 
Tenderfoot's  first  trial,  and  it  did  not  take  him  long  to  become  satis- 
fied that  the  Josselyn  accused  was  none  other  than  his  former  rival, 
Jerome  B.  James. 

Rudolph  had  been  forced  to  hire  out  on  a  cattle  ranch  or  starve, 
and  speedily  became  acquainted  with  many  of  the  tough  characters 
who  were  then  not  infrequent  in  eastern  Colorado.  His  work  on  the 
range  gave  him  abundant  opportunity  to  acquire  proficiency  in  steal- 
ing calves  and  cattle,  and  he  was  soon  at  the  head  of  a  secret  band  of 
"  rustlers  "  from  whose  depredations  the  ranchmen  suffered  severely, 
and  they  were  not  able  to  drive  the  last  of  the  thieves  out  of  the 
country  until  some  years  aftei'ward. 

These  connections  had  made  it  possible  for  Rudolph  to  so 
nearly  succeed  in  destroying  all  the  evidence  in  Josselyn's  defense. 
His  complicity  therein  would  never  have  been  suspected  but  for  the 
admissions  he  had  foolishly  made  while  intoxicated  in  the  saloon 
at  Laramie  City,  which,  by  one  of  those  mysterious  dispensations  of 
Providence  that  makes  truth  stranger  than  fiction,  had  been  overheard 
by  one  of  Josselyn's  friends. 

It  was  Rudolph's  band  of  rustlers  that  had  made  the  Cache  la 
Poudre  country  too  hot  for  "  Sam  "  and  Griswold.  One  of  them  had 
slain  Witham,  two  had  joined  in  breaking  into  the  vault  and  firing 
the  court  house,  while  the  destruction  of  the  copies  of  the  Standard 
had  been  an  easy  matter. 

It  is  true  that  Frances,  with  the  intuition  of  a  dying  woman's 
love,  had  imagined  Rudolph's  presence  in  the  west,  though  no  one 
had  given  her  warning  a  second  thought.  But  Rudolph  had  known 
of  Frances'  visit  to  Fort  Collins,  though  ignorant  of  her  illness  and 
death.  He  was  confident  she  had  come  west  to  find  Jerome,  which 
still  more  embittered  his  hatred  for  the  young  man. 

At  the  time  of  the  Laramie  City  incident,  Rudolph  had  been 
drifting  for  a  number  of  months  among  the  settlements,  camps  and 


144        MILITARY     DEPARTMENT     OF    DAKOTA 

Indians  of  the  northwestern  frontier.  As  a  precaution  against  arrest 
for  the  assassination  of  Peters,  he  now  fled  still  further  north,  and  for  a 
time  lived  among  Sitting  Bull's  tribe  of  Indians.  To  acquire  power 
among  the  Sioux,  whom  he  felt  he  might  be  able  to  use  in  his  nefa- 
rious purpose,  Rudolph  had  become  a  squaw  man  (that  is,  had  taken  a 
squaw  to  wife).  Finally  he  had  worked  his  way  back  to  Dakota  and 
was  a  hanger-on  about  Fort  Abraham  Lincoln. 

It  was  Rudolph  who  had  directed  the  recent  stealing  by  Indians 
and  renegades  of  grain  at  Fort  Lincoln,  without  even  being  suspected. 
When  two  men  had  been  arrested  for  that  offense,  it  was  Rudolph  who 
had  assisted  them  in  breaking  jail,  and,  what  was  still  more  to  his 
purpose,  at  the  same  time  Rudolph  had  set  free  no  less  a  Sioux  than 
Rain-in-the-Face.^^ 

This  was  a  great  man  of  that  bloodthirsty  tribe,  who  had 
been  confined  for  several  months  for  his  boasted-of  crime  of  killing 
two  white  men  of  Custer's  Yellowstone  expedition  in  1873.  After  his 
escape,  Rain-in-the-Face  sent  back  word  that  he  had  joined  Sitting 
Bull,  and  that  the  day  would  yet  come  when  he  would  eat  the  living 
heart  of  Colonel  Tom  Custer,  in  revenge  for  having  had  him  ignobly 
arrested  in  the  presence  of  his  fellow  Indians  in  the  store  at  Standing 
Rock  Agency. 

Only  once  had  Rudolph  made  an  enemy  among  the  Sioux  : 
when  he  filled  Running  Deer  with  rum  —  a  magnificent  specimen  of 
the  tribe  who  was  singularly  proud  of  his  prowess  —  and  then  thrashed 
the  befuddled  Indian  before  all  his  friends — who  forever  after  held 
Running  Deer  in  contempt  and  ridicule  for  the  incident.  A  Sioux 
never  forgets  an  injury  —  never  forgives  an  insult  to  his  strength. 

Through  occasional  unwritten  communications  with  his  cronies 
at  the  south,  Rudolph  learned  of  Josselyn's  acquittal  and  flight. 
"  Now  the  Tenderfoot  is  in  a  fix,"  Rudolph  reasoned  to  himself,  "  for 
he  can't  go  back  to  Frances,  neither  can  he  feel  free  to  take  up  with 
the  Colorado  girl,  so  he  will  doubtless  enlist  in  the  army  as  the  best 
vocation  for  one  in  his  dilemma." 


ON     TRAIL    OF    THE    INDIANS  145 

The  renegade's  conclusion  was  correct,  as  we  shall  soon  see. 
(Why  are  such  degenerates  so  often  gifted  with  what  Lawyer  Whiting 
had  aptly  termed  "  a  master  mind  "  ? ) 

So  Rudolph  kept  up  a  persistent  search,  both  individually  and 
through  his  spies,  and  was  at  last  rewarded  with  success,  when  he 
discovered  that  Josselyn  and  Buckskin  Joe,  soon  after  their  escape, 
had  enlisted  at  McComb  City,  Missouri,  in  the  Seventh  cavalry  and 
were  in  Troop  "  K  "  when  the  regiment  had  rendezvoused  at  Fort 
Lincoln  preparatory  to  joining  Terry's  ill-fated  expedition  against  the 
Indians  under  Sitting  Bull. 

Rudolph  had  found  no  difficulty  in  obtaining  service  in  the 
command  as  cook,  or  in  communicating  with  his  Indian  associates 
among  the  enemy,  while  he  was  so  changed  that  it  was  no  wonder 
Josselyn  failed  to  recognize  in  the  tough-looking  mess-helper  the 
dapper  Wall  street  broker  of  three  years  before. 

Groping  his  way  into  the  cotton  woods,  Rudolph  had  not  long 
to  wait.  The  brush  at  one  side  silently  parted  as  two  keen  eyes  met 
his,  and  with  a  whispered,  "How,"  Rain-in-the-Face ^^  clasped  the 
hand  of  the  villain.  The  two  were  types  of  the  degree  to  which  revenge 
will  sink  white  man  and  red  to  a  common  level  of  depravity. 

"  Where   is  Sitting    Bull  ?  "  ^^  was    Rudolph's  first  question. 

"  In  Big  Horn  country,  near  Yellowstone.  His  Indians  cover 
prairie,"  answered  Rain-in-the-Face,  with  a  sweep  of  his  arm  that 
indicated  great  numbers  —  for  though  he  spoke  a  little  English  and 
understood  more,  this  fact  was  one  of  which  the  whites  had  been  in 
ignorance  during  his  captivity. 

"  Good.  Now  look*"  Rudolph  spoke  eagerly.  "  Give  this 
[handing  him  an  official  envelope]  to  one  of  your  smartest  scouts. 
He  is  to  ride  into  camp  about  eleven  o'clock  tonight  as  a  courier 
from  Crook.  The  dispatch  tells  Custer  that  Sitting  Bull's  braves 
are  leaving  Big  Horn  for  the  north.  Custer  will  send  scouts  to  inform 
Gibbon." 

Rain-in-the-Face  comprehended,  as  Rudolph  went  on  : 


146        MILITARY    DEPARTMENT     OF    DAKOTA 

"  It  will  lead  Custer  to  believe  Sitting  Bull's  forces  are  small. 
See  that  these  two  scouts  never  live  to  go  beyond  Chimney  Rocks. 
[The  Indian's  eyes  were  hellish,  as  he  drew  his  knife  carelessly  around 
his  head  to  indicate  the  act  of  scalping.]  That's  it.  Then  join  Sit- 
ting Bull,  telling  Indians  everywhere  to  rally  to  him  on  the  Big  Horn. 
There  you  will  have  your  revenge  !  " 

And  Rudolph's  face  outvied  in  its  disgusting  ferocity  the  fiend- 
ishness  of  the  savage's,  as  he  made  a  pantomime  of  cutting  out  the 
Indian's  heart  and  eating  it. 

Rain-in-the-Face  disappeared  as  silently  as  he  had  come,  and 
Rudolph  stealthily  made  his  way  back.  If  now  his  other  plans  failed 
not  —  and  before  midnight  this  would  be  apparent  —  the  white 
demon's  revenge  was  assured,  and  probably  also  the  revenge  of  his 
Indian  accomplice.  For  Rudolph  felt  instinctively  that  if  Custer 
followed  the  ruse,  Josselyn  and  Joe  would  be  chosen  as  scouts  for 
such  a  mission,  so  powerfully  had  the  Tenderfoot  already  impressed 
his  personality  upon  his  fellows,  although  only  a  private  among  700 
cavalry. 

The  camp  was  now  wrapt  in  slumber.  There  were  no  lights, 
save  a  glimmer  at  headquarters,  where  General  Custer  sat  thinking 
of  his  responsibilities,  now  that  Brigadier  General  Terry  had  gone  on 
to  the  Yellowstone,  leaving  him  in  sole  command. 

At  this  time  Custer  was  furthest  from  being  the  dashing,  care- 
free, reckless  commander  his  enemies  had  represented.  He  had 
hardly  yet  recovered  from  the  sting  inflicted  upon  him  by  President 
Grant's  order  that  the  Seventh  cavalry  should  start  for  the  front 
without  him,  although  that  order  had  been  modified  subsequently  so 
that  he  was  permitted  to  go  to  the  front  under  Terry  instead  of  being 
in  supreme  command.  * 

It  had  been  a  great  satisfaction  alike  to  Custer  and  Terry,  that 
on  this  campaign  Custer  had  repeatedly  found  a  way  through  the 
Bad  Lands  when  the  Indian  scouts  had  given  up  the  attempt  in 
despair,  for  the  expedition  was  traversing  a  region  never  before 
visited  by  white  men  —  a  waste  beyond  description,  filled  with  gullies 


"A  waste  Deyona  aescription" 


"  Filled  with  .  .  .  buttes  and  arroyos " 


H;iynes,  Photo 


ON     TRAIL    OF    THE    INDIANS  151 

and  hummocks,  buttes  and  arroyos,  now  level  and  then  rough,  without 
vegetation  other  than  cacti  and  sage  brush,  except  the  cottonwoods 
along  the  river.  The  brilliant  sunshine,  reflected  back  by  the  blazing 
sands  and  many-colored  hills,  imparted  a  peculiar  hue  to  the  land- 
scape, the  effect  of  which  was  heightened  by  the  rarity  and  clearness 
of  the  atmosphere.  Under  these  conditions  the  contour  of  the  land 
blends  into  one  almost  indefinable  mass,  and  makes  still  more  difficult 
the  finding  of  a  way  out  where  there  are  no  human  signs  to  indicate 
the  direction. 

More  than  once  General  Terry  had  sought  Custer's  tent  before 
dawn  to  urge  him  to  lead  the  way.  Twice  when  Custer  and  his 
troop  had  gone  off*  scouting  for  Indians,  the  command  had  lost  its 
bearings,  and  was  wandering  blindly  in  the  desert  upon  his  return. 

Indeed,  Custer's  natural  faculty  for  judging  the  country,  and 
his  remarkable  prescience  in  discovering  trails  through  the  pathless- 
wilds,  were  never  displayed  with  more  amazing  intuition  and  success 
than  at  this  time.  Some  idea  of  the  difficulties  the  expedition  had 
already  passed  through  is  gathered  from  the  fact  that  the  Little  Mis- 
souri was  so  crooked  and  the  Bad  Lands  so  impassable  that  in  a 
march  of  fifty  miles,  the  command  forded  the  river  thirty-four  times ! 
As  the  bottom  is  quicksand,  many  mishaps  occurred  before  the  entire 
procession  got  across,  for  even  when  "  closed  up "  the  expedition 
stretched  out  in  a  line  two  miles  long,  with  its  many  wagons,  pack 
mules  and  horses,  1700  animals  in  all,  including  the  cavalry.  The 
utmost  watchfulness  was  exercised  to  guard  against  surprise  or  attack 
by  Indians,  who  could  secrete  themselves  among  the  buttes  so  as 
never  to  be  suspected.  One  battalion  was  divided  into  a  guard  for 
each  side  of  the  train,  and  there  was  always  a  heavy  rear  guard  and 
an  equally  strong  advance  guard. 

At  this  late  hour  tonight  Custer's  wide-brimmed  hat  was  cast 
aside,  revealing  the  wealth  of  long,  curly,  light,  almost  yellow,  hair 
which  reached  well  down  toward  the  collar.  The  face  was  thin, 
almost  aquiline  —  the  broad  brow  wrinkled  with  care,  the  singularly 
penetrating  blue  eyes  more  restless  than  usual.     The  nervous  tension 


152        MILITARY     DEPARTMENT    OF    DAKOTA 

of  the  man,  while  under  good  control,  nevertheless  displayed  itself, 
ever  and  anon,  in  jerky  motions,  especially  of  the  powerful  hands  and 
bony  fingers.  He  wore  the  buckskin  suit  in  which  he  had  become 
familiar  to  the  public  through  the  illustrated  press. 

Custer  was  now  sitting  on  his  bed,  writing  to  his  wife  by  the 
light  of  a  flickering  candle.  His  love  for  and  devotion  to  her  were 
supreme.  No  matter  how  many  hours  he  had  been  in  the  saddle,  he 
found  time  to  write  Mrs.  Custer  whenever  there  was  a  prospect  of  a 
courier  being  sent  back  with  dispatches,  for  up  to  this  time  the  expe- 
dition had  kept  in  occasional  touch  with  Fort  Lincoln  by  scouts  sent 
back  and  forth.  A  courier  was  to  start  for  the  fort  on  the  morrow,  and 
as  it  was  probably  the  last  opportunity  he  would  have  for  sending  his 
wife  a  letter,  Custer  was  writing  at  length.  Moreover,  while  feeling 
all  the  responsibilities  of  sole  command,  now  that  Terry  had  gone 
forward,  Custer  was  happy  in  the  further  confidence  displayed  in  him 
by  his  superior  officer,  and  proceeding  with  the  letter  to  Mrs.  Custer, 
wrote  :  ^ 

"  I  send  you  an  extract  from  General  Terry's  official  order,  knowing  how 
keenly  you  appreciate  words  of  commendation  and  confidence,  such  as  the 
following  : 

"  '  It  is  of  course  impossible  to  give  you  any  definite  instruction  in  regard 
to  this  movement ;  and  were  it  not  impossible  to  do  so,  the  department  com- 
mander places  too  much  confidence  in  your  zeal,  energy  and  ability  to  wish  to 
impose  upon  you  precise  orders,  which  might  hinder  your  action  when  nearly 
in  contact  with  the  enemy.'  " 

Custer's  hand  paused.  The  letter  was  never  to  be  added  to, 
for,  as  he  was  about  to  proceed,  a  distant  sound  caught  his  quick  ear 
even  before  it  was  noticed  by  the  sentinel  outside  —  the  hoof  beats  of 
a  horse,  ridden  hard.  It  soon  attracted  the  guard's  attention,  a  shot 
fired  by  an  outpost  woke  up  many,  followed  by  a  shout,  "  a  friend, 
a  friend,"  as  the  rider  was  caught,  disarmed,  and  marched  to  the 
general's  headquarters,  his  foaming  pony  following,  led  by  one  of  the 
guards.  The  scout  was  still  muffled  in  the  blanket  that  he  had  worn 
to  keep  out  the  cold.     Major  Reno,  Captain  Benteen,  Colonel  Tom 


ON    TRAIL    OF    THE    INDIANS  153 

Custer,  and  other  officers  came  running  up,  attracted  by  the  disturb- 
ance, while  a  number  of  privates  also  gathered  about. 

"  What's  all  this  ?  "  said  General  Custer,  in  a  tone  that  the 
close  observer  could  see  reflected  a  certain  anxiety,  as  he  stepped  out 
in  front  of  his  tent. 

'*  A  half-breed  with  dispatches  from  General  Crook,  sir," 
replied  the  corporal  of  the  guard,  saluting,  and  taking  from  the 
courier's  inner  pocket  a  military  envelope,  duly  sealed  and  addressed, 
which  he  handed  to  the  general.  Lanterns  had  been  lit  to  afford 
more  light  outside. 

Custer  hastily  broke  the  seal  and  read  : 

Camp  of  2nd  and  3rd  Cavalry,  not  far  from  Old  Fort  Reno, 

Wyoming  Territory,  May  26,  1876. 
LiETTENANT  CoLONEL  CusTER,  7th  Cavalry. 
Colonel : 

Brigadier  General  Crook  desires  to  inform  you  that  a  scout  in  whom  he 
places  every  confidence  has  just  come  in  and  reports  that  the  Indians  under 
Sitting  Bull  are  leaving  the  Big  Horn  country  in  large  numbers  going  north- 
ward. You  may  w;sh  to  send  trustworthy  scouts  northwestward  to  verify  this 
report,  with  instructions  to  report  to  Gen.  Gibbon  if  they  can  reach  him.  If 
our  information  is  correct,  the  Indians  are  aware  of  our  purpose  to  round  them 
up  and  are  trying  to  give  us  the  slip  to  the  north,  which  Gen.  Gibbon's  com- 
mand may  be  able  to  head  off. 

Respectfully  yours, 

J.  J.  Pearson, 
Captain  4th  Infantry, 
Acting  Ass't  Adjutant  General. 

**  Let  the  courier  be  well  cared  for,"  ordered  Custer,  and  then 
turning  to  his  officers  said  decisively  : 

"  Gentlemen,  please  come  inside.     This  is  important." 

Custer  now  read  the  despatch  aloud,  adding  :  "  I  have  decided 
to  send  two  scouts  as  General  Crook  suggests.  It  will  not  do  to  trust 
the  'Rees  ;  whom  do  you  nominate  ?     Officers  cannot  go." 

Quick  as  a  flash  answered  Captain  Godfrey  of  Company  K 
Seventh  cavalry  : 

"  That  man  Josselyn  and  his  friend  Buckskin  Joe  are  the  best 
team  for  such  work  —  that  is,  if  you  won't  let  me  go  myself,"  he  added, 
with  the  eagerness  of  a  volunteer  for  a  desperate  venture. 


154        MILITARY    DEPARTMENT    OF    DAKOTA 

A  dozen  others  were  mentioned,  when  Custer  interrupted  : 

"  Bring  them  all  here." 

In  a  few  moments  an  officer  reported  : 

"  The  men  are  ready,  sir." 

Custer  stepped  outside  quickly,  and  glancing  over  the  squad 
was  pleased  to  observe  one  among  them  whom  he  had  frequently 
noticed  for  his  fine  riding,  manly  bearing  and  soldierly  figure,  for 
Josselyn's  physique  had  filled  out  and  broadened  during  these  later 
months.  Speaking  with  the  tenderness  that  he  sometimes  showed, 
which  so  endeared  him  to  his  men,  Custer  said : 

"  For  a  long  and  dangerous  service,  upon  which  I  do  not  feel 
like  ordering  anyone,  I  wish  vol —  " 

Before  he  could  finish  the  word,  before  the  other  men  even 
realized  what  Custer  had  uttered,  Josselyn  advanced  and  saluting 
gravely  said  : 

"  Allow  me,  sir  !  " 

"  And  me,  too,"  put  in  Buckskin  Joe,  stepping   to  his  side. 

The  others  hardly  yet  grasped  the  situation,  but  an  instant 
later,  all  begged  to  go. 

"  You  may  enter,  men,"  Custer  said  in  a  pleased  manner, 
inviting  Josselyn  and  Buckskin  Joe  into  the  tent. 

There  he  read  General  Crook's  dispatch,  and  instructed  Josselyn 
to  use  his  judgment  in  acting  upon  its  suggestion. 

"  You  had  better  cross  the  Yellowstone  at  Chimney  Rocks — 
it  is  the  safest  place,  strike  over  to  Musselshell  river  and  follow  it 
down  so  as  to  connect  with  Gibbon  somewhere  on  the  Yellowstone 
near  White  Beaver  creek.  Take  rations  for  two  or  three  weeks, 
plenty  of  ammunition,  and  salt  for  your  horses. 

"  It'll  be  a  hard  jaunt  and  if  the  Indians  are  really  trailing 
northward  you  may  not  get  through  —  but  we  must  know  ;  the  fate 
of  this  command,  not  to  mention  the  success  of  the  campaign,  may 
depend  upon  your  efforts  to  ascertain  the  numbers  and  movements  of 
the  enemy." 

"  I  will  do  my  best,  sir,"  commented  Josselyn. 

And  Buckskin  Joe  added  :    "  Me  too,  sir." 


ON    TRAIL    OF    THE    INDIANS  155 

"  Oh,  by  the  way,  Josselyn,"  added  Custer,  his  eye  falling  upon 
an  envelope  among  the  papers  on  his  camp  table,  which  he  picked  up, 
"  here's  a  letter  that  came  with  the  last  dispatches  which  were  sent 
on  from  Fort  Lincoln.  It  was  enclosed  in  a  note  from  the  Secretary 
of  War  asking  that  special  efforts  be  made  to  find  the  man  to  whom 
it  is  addressed.  We  have  no  such  name  on  our  rolls,  but  some  of  our 
men  have  more  than  one  name,  and  you  may  know  who  this  is  for. 
It  is  addressed  to  Jerome  B.  James." 

Josselyn  started,  flushed,  then  drew  himself  together,  man- 
fashion,  and  said  proudly  : 

"  That  is  my  real  name,  sir." 

"  Well,  my  boy,  I  hope  it's  good  news,"  Custer  replied,  handing 
him  the  envelope.  "  Now  start  instantly,  there's  not  a  moment  to 
lose,  and  —  God  bless  you  both,"  he  added  fervently,  shaking  hands 
with  each. 

"  Will  you  get  the  horses  ready,  Joe,"  asked  Josselyn  as  they 
got  outside,  "  while  I  read  this  letter  by  the  light  here  —  it's  from 
my  mother." 

"  Certainly,  sir,"  was  the  ready  reply.  Buckskin  Joe  always 
addressed  Josselyn  as  though  he  were  an  officer  many  grades  above 
himself. 

Now  was  Josselyn  alone,  by  the  two  lanterns  that  still  burned 
outside  headquarters.  The  wind  had  gone  down.  The  night  air  was 
bitterly  cold.  At  times  the  moon  showed  itself  through  the  clouds, 
yet  a  flurry  of  snowflakes  fell  now  and  again.  Guards  were  pacing 
their  beat,  which  extended  down  to  the  creek.  In  the  occasional 
moonlight,  the  long  avenue  of  tents  seemed  to  stretch  away  into 
infinity.  In  some  of  the  tents,  lights  could  still  be  seen,  for  after  the 
excitement,  not  everyone  had  yet  turned  in. 

At  one  of  the  more  distant  mess-tents,  a  cook  and  several  of 
the  'Ree  scouts  had  built  a  fire  and  were  extending  frontier  hospitality 
to  the  half-breed  courier  who  had  risked  his  life  to  bring  what  the 
men  felt  must  be  important  dispatches.  Stolid  and  uncommuni- 
cative as  usual,  the  Indian  still  shivered  and  wrapped  his  blanket 


156        MILITARY    DEPARTMENT    OF    DAKOTA 

more  tightly  around  him,  although  close  to  the  camp  fire.  Off  among 
the  horses,  Buckskin  Joe  could  be  faintly  heard,  as  he  untied  his  own 
and  Josselyn's  horses,  and  led  them  down  the  avenue  to  their  saddles. 
Josselyn  held  the  letter  for  a  moment,  thinking.  He  looked 
up,  but  his  eyes  were  far  away.  Was  it  all  a  dream  ?  He  broke  the 
seal  and  read : 

New  York,  April  22,  1876. 
My  Dear  Boy: 

At  last  we  have  some  trace  which  leads  us  to  believe  you  are  in  the  army 
somewhere.  I  am  sending  a  copy  of  this  letter  to  the  different  commands,  in 
hopes  of  its  finding  you.  Gladys  [why  did  his  heart  start  so]  is  sure  you  must 
be  with  Custer.  She  says  you  would  enlist  under  such  an  officer  if  you  could. 
We  do  not  blame  you  for  disappearing,  but,  dear  Jerome,  it  was  all  unnecessary. 
We  still  miss  Frances,  her  death  was  so  sad  [what  was  this  emotion  ?  —  not  grief- 
stricken  love  surely].  Father  and  I  returned  east  shortly  after  the  trial.  We 
left  the  search  for  you  in  the  hands  of  Gladys  and  her  friends.  The  cowboys 
and  Old  Faithful,  and  their  friends  among  the  Arapahoes  and  Crows,  have  been 
unceasing  in  their  hunt  for  traces  of  your  whereabouts.  There  was  a  revulsion 
of  popular  feeling  in  your  behalf — the  Cache  la  Poudre  people  now  regard  you 
as  we  do  —  as  a  hero. 

Gladys  is  superb.  We  had  her  here  for  a  month  in  January.  Everyone 
just  went  "  daft "  over  her.  [  What  is  this  feeling  ?  Can  it  be  jealousy  ?]  We 
wanted  her  to  stay  till  April,  but  she  is  full  of  a  great  adventure.  The  Collins 
people  think  the  Sioux  will  be  driven  back  to  their  reservation  and  are  confident 
in  the  belief  that  the  wealth  of  the  upper  Yellowstone  country  will  be  available 
to  those  who  are  first  to  settle  or  prospect  there.  Old  Faithful  starts  up  that 
way  about  this  time  —  he  promised  to  find  you,  too — the  sheriff"  and  a  large  party 
of  cowboy  and  ranchers  will  follow  in  May.  Mother  Sanderson,  Gladys,  Amelia 
and  Mrs.  Vandewark  go  with  them.  Gladys  is  the  real  spirit  behind  the  move- 
ment.    I  think  I  know  why.     Do  you  ? 

Do  take  care  of  yourself,  my  dear  boy,  keep  out  of  danger,  and  come 
back  to  us  soon  —  to  home  and  love  and  friends,  to  your  father  and  to 

Your  Loving  Mother. 

Josselyn  leaned  his  head  on  his  hands.  A  strange  tumult 
raged  within  him.     He  heard  approaching  horses. 

**  All  ready,  sir. "'    It  was  Buckskin  Joe. 

"  Oh,  Joe,  great  news.  A  Collins  outfit  is  going  up  into  the 
Yellowstone  —  will  be  there  as  soon  as  Terry  rounds  up  the  Indians." 

"Who  be  they?" 

"  Sheriff  Mason,  the  Sandersons,  the  Vandewarks  —  " 

"  Amelia  ?  " 

*'  Yes  and  her  mother." 


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ON    TRAIL    OF    THE    INDIANS  159 

"  God,  what  a  risk."  Joe  spoke  with  a  depth  of  feeling 
Josselyn  had  never  before  thought  possible  in  the  man.  A  cold  sweat 
came  out  all  over  Buckskin  Joe  as  he  said  : 

"  Hurry.  We  must  meet  them.  They  may  be  killed  if 
we  don't." 

"  I  will  return  with  Gladys,"  Josselyn  said  to  himself,  as  he 
leaped  into  the  saddle. 

The  two  were  soon  far  on  in  a  journey  the  events  of  which 
none  could  foresee. 

Now  at  last  the  camp  was  quiet  again.  Lights  were  all  out, 
save  the  embers  at  the  mess  tent  near  the  'Rees'  quarters.  Even  Custer 
slept.  Yet  a  certain  uneasiness  might  have  been  detected  among  the 
Indian  scouts.  At  last  one  of  them  silently  crept  up  to  the  muffled 
figure  of  the  courier  still  huddled  before  the  fire.  The  half-breed,  not 
to  be  surprised,  jumped  to  his  feet,  drawing  his  revolver,  his  blanket 
falling  to  the  ground. 

"  A  Sioux,  hi,  hi,  a  Sioux,"  yelled  the  creeper,  as  the  courier 
dashed  off  like  the  wind  in  the  direction  of  his  pony.  The  other 
'Rees  were  after  him  on  the  instant,  shrieking  like  mad  and  shooting 
rapidly  as  they  sought  to  surround  the  fugitive.  He,  however,  suc- 
ceeded in  mounting  his  horse  and  would  have  escaped  but  for  a  bullet 
that  hit  the  pony  in  the  head,  as  another  broke  the  fugitive's  arm, 
while  a  third  shot,  as  it  afterward  appeared,  penetrated  his  vitals. 

The  whole  camp  was  again  in  uproar  as  the  Arickarees  re- 
turned and  rode  up  to  headquarters  with  their  prisoner. 

"  What  is  the  meaning  of  this  ?  "  Custer  demanded,  as  he 
opened  the  flap  of  his  tent  to  meet  them. 

**  A  Sioux  spy  —  not  a  courier.  Treachery,"  said  the  chief  of 
the  'Rees,  with  grave  Indian  brevity,  in  a  low  tone,  yet  which  could 
be  distinctly  heard,  so  utter  was  the  silence  of  the  several  hundred 
men  who  had  gathered  about  in  various  stages  of  undress,  among 
them  Rudolph,  their  faces  filled  with  questioning  eagerness. 

*'  What  have  you  to  say  ?  " 


160        MILITARY    DEPARTMENT    OF    DAKOTA 

Custer  asked,  turning  to  the  supposed  half-breed,  who,  though 
he  sank  to  the  ground  faint  from  loss  of  blood,  it  could  now  be  seen 
was  a  full-blooded  Sioux. 

There  was  no  response  from  the  dying  Indian,  but  his  eyes 
roamed  the  crowd  with  a  malignity  of  purpose  that  did  not  escape 
the  general. 

Addressing  him  in  the  Sioux  tongue,  Custer  proceeded: 

"  You  heap  brave  Indian.  Talk  and  I  will  make  you  free.  If 
you  don't,  I  kill." 

Still  no  response. 

"  It  was  some  enemy  who  wished  you  to  die  that  sent  you  on 
this  errand,"  continued  Custer.  The  surmise  was  evidently  correct 
in  part,  for  the  red  man  nodded  affirmatively,  but  ever  so  slightly. 
He  was  weakening. 

"Who  sent  you?" 

"  Rain-in-the-Face." 

A  growl  from  the  assemblage  greeted  this  revelation. 

"  Where  did  he  get  the  letter." 

"  White  man  !  " 

A  still  more  ominous  sound  swept  through  the  crowd,  in  quick  • 
recognition  of  the  treachery  that  had  been  practiced. 

"  Did  he  tell  you  what  white  man  gave  him  the  letter  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Who  was  it  ?  " 

The  question  came  out  like  a  pistol  shot,  in  the  absolute  still- 
ness, for  every  man  was  now  rigid  with  intensity,  hardly  breathing 
lest  he  might  miss  the  reply. 

Painfully  and  slowly.  Running  Deer  raised  himself  on  his  left 
arm.  An  involuntary  groan  of  physical  anguish  escaped  him.  His 
eyes  roamed  the  throng  with  ever-increasing  hate,  but  apparently  with 
disappointment.  A  moonbeam  just  then  flooded  the  scene  with  a 
weird  light.  Rudolph,  carried  away  by  an  uncontrollable  impulse, 
stepped  to  the  front.  His  face  was  ghastly,  and  at  that  moment  was 
thrown  into  still  brighter  relief  by  the  lanterns'  ray. 


ON    TRAIL    OF    THE    INDIANS  161 

The  Indian's  eyes  caught  Rudolph's  as  a  snake  hypnotizes  his 
victim.  Rising  majestically  to  his  full  height,  with  a  supreme  effort, 
all  the  pent-up  fury  of  hate  and  revenge  playing  across  his  counte- 
nance. Running  Deer  lifted  his  arm  with  a  quick  but  graceful  motion, 
and,  pointed  his  long  sinewy  finger  at  Rudolph,  said  in  English  : 

"  He  !  " 

Then  the  magnificent  figure  —  which,  even  to  the  unlettered, 
had  seemed  an  avenging  demon  —  collapsed.     The  Sioux  was  dead. 

The  guards  jumped  for  Rudolph  simultaneously  with  the  in- 
dication of  the  Indian's  accusing  hand.  He  was  too  spellbound  to 
resist.  Suddenly  he  became  limp  —  nothing  was  left  to  sustain  him, 
now  that  the  innate  cowardice  of  his  organism  asserted  itself. 

Oh,  the  disgust  with  which  the  noble  Custer  gazed  upon  this 
apology  for  a  man,  as  he  said  : 

"  Arrest." 

Then  turning  to  the  officers  : 

"  Drumhead  courtmartial  —  quick  !  " 

But  Rudolph,  overcome  by  the  apparent  success  of  his  revenge 
upon  Jerome,  his  insane  gloating  over  which  blinded  him  even  to  the 
instinct  of  self-preservation,  as  he  was  being  dragged  away  turned 
and  snarled  out : 

"  I  did  it  —  I've  had  my  revenge  —  do  what  you  please  with 
me.  But  your  turn  will  come  next,"  and  he  glared  at  General  Custer, 
and  at  his  brother  Colonel  Tom  Custer,  with  the  eye,  not  of  a  lunatic 
exactly,  but  with  an  intelligence  so  prophetic  both  officers  shuddered. 


Not  long  after  could  be  heard,  above  the  subsiding  noise  of  the 
camp,  the  order : 

"  Squad  fall  in." 

Then  the  measured  tread  of  marching  feet  —  one  step  halting 
and  out  of  unison,  as  the  squad  moved  off  across  the  prairie  in  the 
now  bright  moonlight. 

"  Ready,  aim,  fire  !  " 


162 


MILITARY    DEPARTMENT     OF    DAKOTA 


So  still  it  was  that  even  at  that  distance  the  command  could  be 
heard  throughout  the  camp. 

A  volley  as  from  one  gun.  The  sound  of  shovels  in  the  dirt, 
of  earth  thrown  upon  earth.  The  squad  returns,  but  without  the  one 
whose  halting  step  had  emphasized  his  presence  to  the  listeners. 

An  officer  reported  to  Custer,  solemnly  : 

"  Sentence  found  and  executed,  sir  !  " 

Turning  into  his  tent,  Custer  murmured,  as  though  to  himself: 

"  Two  men  sacrificed  for  one  cur.     Bah  !  " 


riioto,  copyright,  by  U.  h'.  iJarry 
Rain-in-the-Face 

This  remarkable  Indian  (see  pap:es  145  and  146,  also  Note  43, 
page  201)  died  peacefully  at  Standing  Rock  reservation.  South 
Dakota,  12  September  1905.  Of  late  years  he  was  a  member  of  the 
Indian  police.  Most  of  the  stories  about  his  actions  on  the  Custer 
battlefield  are  base  fabrications. 


PART  Three 

Military  Department  of 
Dakota 


SCENE  Two 

After  the  Massacre 


04 


«2 

'at 
O 


w 


After  the  Massacre 

'A'LL,  now,  1  reckon  this  yer's  rale  comfy,**  ejaculated 
Mother  Sanderson,  contentedly,  seating  herself  with  a 
satisfied  air  on  the  ground  near  the  camp  fire  upon 
which  the  noonday  meal  for  the  emigrants  had  been  prepared. 

(Is  this  habit  of  the  human  race  to  gather  around  the  fire, 
whether  under  the  starry  skies  or  amid  the  luxuries  of  home,  a  sur- 
vival of  the  fire-worship  of  our  primitive  ancestors  ? ) 

"  It  do  be  right  smart  perky,  shore,"  chimed  in  old  lady  Van- 
dewark,  with  the  peculiar  complacency  with  which  elderly  people 
enjoy  a  fresh  taste  of  their  youthhood  experience. 

"  Must  be  just  like  old  times,  when  you  and  Pa  came  across 
the  plains  in  '59,"  added  Amelia,  taking  in  at  a  glance  the  whole 
scene  and  the  plains  round  about. 

"  Yes,  even  to  the  prairie  schooners  and  the  bull  teams,"  Gladys 
added  with  animation.  "  But  you  know  I'm  not  reconciled  yet  to 
this  mode  of  locomotion.  Oxen  are  too  slow  —  I  want  to  go  like  the 
wind  ! "  The  remark  was  accompanied  by  a  snap  of  her  dark  eyes 
and  a  dash  of  motion  in  her  lithe  figure  that  was  its  own  best 
emphasis.  * 

"  Now,  Gladys,  don't  you  say  nothin'  agin  them  bull  teams," 
replied  Mother  Sanderson,  shaking  her  finger  playfully  at  the  impet- 
uous girl. 

"Them  bulls  gits  over  as  much  ground  in  er  week  as  eny 
pesky  mules  kin.  As  fer  bosses,  a  bull  team  will  be  fat  an'  happy- 
like when  it's  finished  a  thousand  miles  acrost  ther  plains,  but  yer 


168        MILITARY    DEPARTMENT    OF    DAKOTA 

bosses  be  only  a  sbak  o'  bones,  if  they  be'ant  dead  long  since. 
An'  if  yer  grub  gives  out,  yer  ken  eat  ther  bulls  —  which  isn't  sayin' 
that  mule  flesh  or  boss  meat  won't  keep  soul  an'  body  togither,  if  it 
hez  ter,  but  give  me  bull  hide  insted,  if  yer  please  !  " 

Mother  Sanderson  gave  her  head  a  characteristic  toss  as  she 
ended  this  tribute  to  her  favorite  form  of  motive  power. 

The  little  train  of  emigrants  had  made  its  way  leisurely  from 
Fort  Collins  northward  to  the  Powder  river  trail,  skirted  the  eastern 
foothills  of  the  blue  mountains  of  the  Big  Horn,  and  then  meandered 
to  the  Rosebud. 

"Somehow  things  don't ^^Z  just  right  here,"  Captain  Mason 
said,  when  they  were  on  the  Rosebud,  and  after  a  serious  confabula- 
tion, the  train  moved  over  to  the  Little  Big  Horn,  where  camp  was 
made  near  the  present  site  of  Ionia. 

The  ex-sheriff",  like  many  others,  had  returned  from  the  Black 
Hills  poorer  than  when  he  started,  but  had  eagerly  accepted  the 
proffered  command  of  the  little  party  which,  starting  from  the  Cache 
la  Poudre  late  in  May,  had  planned  to  be  the  first  to  take  advantage 
of  the  unauthorized  "  opening  up  "  of  the  Yellowstone  country  that 
would  follow  the  "  rounding  up  "  of  the  Indians  by  the  army.  Instead 
of  being  discouraged  at  his  failure  in  the  Black  Hills,  the  ex-sheriff* 
was  more  ready  than  ever  for  a  fresh  adventure  —  typical  of  the  state 
of  mind  that  often  possesses  even  sensibly  conservative  men,  once  they 
have  tasted  the  fascinations  of  pioneering  or  prospecting  in  the  allur- 
ing west. 

"Cur'us  that  we  don't  h'yar  nothin',  nor  see  no  signs"  (of 
Indians),  the  veteran  teamsters  agreed. 

"  I  calculate  Custer  has  driven  off*  the  whole  outfit  before  this," 
Captain  Mason  replied,  "  but  we  won't  take  any  chances." 

So  the  prairie  schooners,  a  pitiful  baker's  dozen  in  number, 
were  placed  in  the  customary  semicircle  with  more  than  usual  care. 
The  two  containing  the  bulk  of  the  supplies,  and  the  wagon  occupied 
by  the  women,  stood  endwise  to  the  fire,  their  tongues  outward  ;  the 
other  wagons  were  placed  sidewise — P'  makes  more  of  er  show,"  one 


AFTER    THE    MASSACRE  169 

old  teamster  explained,  almost  pathetically,  in  answer  to  Gladys' 
questions).  The  bulls  were  herded  close  by,  instead  of  being  allowed 
to  range ;  every  horse  was  picketed.  Such  guns  as  were  not  being 
carried  by  the  men  were  stacked  ready  for  instant  use.  All  the 
yokes  for  the  cattle,  and  saddlery  for  the  horses,  were  carefully 
collected  within  the  protecting  pale,  the  two  ends  of  which  rested  on 
the  creek.  A  few  boxes  and  bags  of  supplies  were  unloaded,  and 
with  two  or  three  long-handled  frying  pans,  a  kettle  and  coffee  pots, 
lent  an  odd  homeliness  to  the  scene.  A  further  touch  of  domesticity 
was  added  by  the  "  wash  "  —  stockings,  handkerchiefs,  a  waist  and 
skirt,  and  the  like  —  that  hung  on  a  driving-line  stretched  from  a 
tree  to  one  of  the  wagons. 

With  an  ill-disguised  attempt  at  resignation,  Gladys  seated 
herself  beside  Mrs.  Vandewark  while  Mother  Sanderson  was  delivering 
her  homily.  The  two  old  ladies  were  knitting  calmly,  quite  as  uncon- 
cerned and  as  much  at  home  as  though  on  their  own  ranches  instead 
of  being  in  the  heart  of  the  Indian  country. 

But  Gladys  was  full  of  life  and  daring.  The  journey  across  the 
plains  had  been  most  exhilarating,  and  the  health  and  spirit  of  the 
young  woman  were  so  heightened  by  the  experience  that  she  could 
hardly  restrain  her  impulse  to  go  faster  and  everywhere. 

This  never-failing  stimulus  of  prairie  and  mountain  is  one  of 
Nature's  wise  provisions  for  recuperating  the  mind  and  body,  and  by 
fascinating  us  with  the  charm  and  zest  of  expanse  and  uplift  of  rare- 
fied atmosphere,  inspire  us  to  pause  in  our  mad  career  occasionally  to 
pay  homage  to  Mother  Earth  and  to  "  cast  aside  half-truths  and  grasp 
the  whole."  In  such  environment  the  soul  soars  freely,  and  even  the 
feeblest  mind  imbibes  some  inkling  of  the  marvelous  fact  that  — 

"  A  thousand  Unseen  Hands 
Reach  down  to  help  you  to  their  peace-crowned  heights. 
And  all  the  forces  of  the  firmament 
Shall  fortify  your  strength." 


170        MILITARY    DEPARTMENT    OF    DAKOTA 

Unconsciously  attuned  to  these  mighty  forces,  which  played 
upon  her  impulses 

"  Like  music  by  the  night  wind  sent 
Through  the  strings  of  some  still  instrument," 

Gladys  gazed  out  upon  the  scene  with  eyes  that  missed  no  detail  but 
yet  suffused  the  whole  with  the  harmony  of  true  love  and  the  romance 
of  unsullied  youth.  She  saw  the  valley,  here  quite  narrow,  opening 
more  widely  northward  into  that  terra  incognita  which  was  to  contain 
the  fulfillment  of  her  dreams.  The  river,  its  wanderings  indicated 
now  and  anon  by  a  fringe  of  cottonwoods,  here  debouched  generously 
from  the  adjacent  bluffs,  which  even  she  realized  were  too  distant  for 
an  enemy  upon  them  to  command  the  camp.  The  landscape  to  the 
south  blended  into  the  sky-line  with  apparent  evenness,  but  to  the 
north  and  east  the  horizon  was  dotted  by  sundry  buttes  or  kopjes  — 
those  enigmas  of  the  prairie  that  appeal  so  powerfully  to  the  imagi- 
nation. "Like  some  dreamy  eyes  whose  mystery  we  only  half 
surmise,"  the  haze  and  color  of  the  Big  Horn  mountains  imparted  to 
the  southwestward  aspect  a  charm  that  found  singular  response  in  the 
girl's  heart. 

The  still  brownish-gray  or  red  of  the  uplands  that  flanked  the 
valley  with  their  protecting  ramparts,  brought  out  yet  more  strongly 
the  fresh  verdure  of  the  intervale  about  the  camp,  for  it  was  now  the 
twenty-eighth  day  of  June,  and  the  spring  rains  still  nurtured  the 
emerald  carpet  along  the  river. 

The  center  and  gem  of  this  harmonious  setting  was  Gladys 
herself,  radiating  life  and  sparkle  beyond  the  powers  of  the  most 
brilliant  diamond  "  with  purest  ray  serene." 

"  Oh,  isn't  it  fathomless,  beautiful  ?  "  Gladys  exclaimed,  more 
to  herself  than  to  her  companions. 

The  old  ladies  deigned  no  response  —  to  some  degree,  doubt- 
less, they  felt  the  charm,  but  habit  and  experience  concentrated  their 
thoughts  upon  their  humble  task. 

Amelia,  too.  more  shallow  in  her  nature,  yet  true  as  steel  in 


AFTER    THE    MASSACRE  171 

character,  answered  in  a  nondescript  affirmative,  without  turning 
away  from  the  broken  mirror  hanging  at  the  wagon's  end,  before 
which  she  was  prinking. 

Suddenly  a  hand  reached  around  the  corner  to  snatch  the 
glass.  Like  a  flash,  Amelia  clutched  the  arm,  and  crying,  "  Now 
I've  got  you,"  dragged  Osgood  into  the  arena.  Gladys  sprang  to 
her  aid,  and  between  them  the  two  powerful  girls  had  little  trouble 
in  downing  the  lad,  in  spite  of  his  struggles. 

"  Will  yer  quit  ? : —  promise  never  to  do  it  agin,  on  your  soul 
and  honor  ?  "  Amelia  gasped,  breathlessly,  as  she  knelt  on  the  squirm- 
ing boy,  while  Gladys  held  his  arms. 

"  Yep  —  I'm  beat  fair,"  Osgood  answered,  and  was  allowed  to 
regain  his  feet,  as  unterrified  as  ever. 

"  Now,  Milly,  you  childers  hadn't  ort  to  take  on  so,"  Mrs.  Van- 
dewark  smilingly  reproved. 

"  By  jiminy,  but  I'm  hungry  !  "  the  boy  burst  out. 

"  Why  you  hain't  but  jest  hed  yer  dinner,"  retorted  Mother 
Sanderson,  "  but  fry  a  flapjack  if  yer  want,  there's  a  little  batter  left." 

Osgood  was  happy  again.  Pouring  the  mixture  into  the  pan, 
he  poked  up  the  fire,  and  as  he  was  about  to  put  the  pan  on,  said  to 
Gladys : 

"  Kin  yer  flap  a  flapjack  ?  " 

"  Of  course  —  see  !  " 

She  browned  it  well  on  one  side,  gave  it  a  toss  and  —  the  batter- 
side  came  down  over  the  edge  and  splashed  into  the  fire !  They  all 
laughed. 

Somewhat  scornfully,  Osgood  took  the  pan,  filled  it,  held  it 
over  the  fire  a  bit,  then  giving  it  a  deft  turn  tossed  the  cake  high  in 
the  air  and  caught  the  cake  perfectly  in  the  pan,  batter-side  down. 

"  Easy  enough  when  you  know  —  like  drivin'  mules,"  he 
sagely  remarked. 

They  were  all  busily  quiet  for  a  few  moments,  as  Osgood  con- 
tinued his  cooking,  until  he  broke  out  again  : 

"  Say,  Milly,  how  do  yer  spell  Jesus  ?  *' 

'*  What  a  question  !     J  —  e — *' 

"  Wrong.     It  begins  with  a  small  g  I  " 


172        MILITARY    DEPARTMENT    OF    DAKOTA 

"  You  wicked  boy,"  both  girls  shouted,  jumping  for  him,  as  he 
grabbed  his  cakes  and  fled. 

During  this  homely  by-play,  it  might  have  been  noticed  that 
the  men  of  the  party  were  silently  congregating  at  one  side  with 
Captain  Mason,  who  was  talking  intently  with  a  couple  of  the  scouts 
that  had  just  come  in.  The  movement  had  not  been  lost  upon  Mother 
Sanderson  and  Mrs.  Vandewark,  whose  early  experience  had  taught 
them  what  such  actions  might  presage.  The  two  women,  oblivious  to 
the  concluding  frivolity  of  the  young  folks,  were  now  watching  with 
serious  faces  the  little  group  of  men. 

Amelia  was  first  to  feel  the  advent  of  a  new  influence,  but 
Gladys  was  first  to  scent  real  danger.  The  girls  joined  the  two  women, 
and  the  faces  of  all  showed  an  anxiety  they  would  fain  conceal. 

"  There's  been  a  fight  off*  to  the  eastward  within  a  week,"  one 
of  the  scouts  reported  to  Captain  Mason  in  a  tone  so  low  the  women 
could  not  distinguish  what  was  said. 

Captain  Mason  inquired  hurriedly,  "  How  do  you  know  — 
seen  anyone  ?  " 

"  Not  a  soul !  But  over  on  the  Rosebud,  a  few  miles  above 
where  we  camped,  I  found  a  big  Indian  trail  and  signs  of  a  fight  — 
the  troops  went  off  west,  the  Indians  north." 

"  Strange  that  we  get  no  word  about  either  Custer,  Crook  or 
.Gibbon.  They  was  to  hev  the  Injuns  all  rounded  up  afore  now," 
Vandewark  suggested. 

"  Our  half-breeds  don't  get  no  news  either,"  said  one  of  the 
teamsters.  "  They's  enter  Injun  ways,  too,  and  would  know  what's 
going  on  long  afore  any  white  man." 

"  I've  been  expecting  Old  Faithful  would  show  up  before  this," 
continued  Captain  Mason.  "  You  know  he  was  to  join  Custer,  see  the 
Indians  driven  off  to  their  reservations,  then  was  to  meet  us  down  on 
the  Tongue  river  and  pilot  us  into  the  best  country  for  settlement." 

"  Either  the  army  has  licked  ther  Injuns  clean  out,  or  the  red 
divils  hev  wiped  out  Custer !  "  was  the  opinion  of  the  oldest  man  in 
the  group. 


AFTER    THE    MASSACRE  173 

"  What's  the  matter  with  you,  Avery  ?  The  idea !  Why ,  Custer 
can  lick  the  whole  Sioux  nation  with  the  Seventh  cavalry  alone  !  " 

"  Mebbe,  and  mebbe  not,"  Avery  doggedly  replied.  "  He's 
sometimes  too  reckless  to  suit  me.'* 

Unable  to  longer  restrain  herself,  Gladys  went  over  and  asked 
Captain  Mason  : 

"  What  is  it  ?     Do  you  think  there  is  any  danger  ?  " 

**  Can't  tell,  get  ready  for  trouble,"  the  captain  replied,  shortly. 

She  rushed  back  to  the  women  and  spoke  to  them  quietly.  In 
accordance  with  previous  instructions,  they  whisked  into  their  wagon 
the  "  wash  "  and  everything  else  of  a  feminine  nature,  themselves  in- 
cluded— for  one  of  the  cardinal  principles  in  Indian  fighting  is  not  to 
let  the  enemy  become  aware  of  the  presence  of  women,  for  fear  that 
lust  be  added  to  the  Indian's  implacable  hatred. 

"  Don't  be  scared,"  Amelia  said  reassuringly,  as  the  women 
ensconced  themselves  in  such  fashion  that,  on  the  instant,  they  could 
lie  down  flat  in  the  wagon  bottom  and  cover  themselves  with  robes 
and  canvas,  "  there  won't  be  no  danger  so  long  as  Joe's  with  Custer." 

"  And  Josselyn,  too,"  whispered  Gladys,  tenderly. 

Neither  tried  to  hide  their  blushes.  The  two  old  women  ex- 
changed glances,  smiling  in  spite  of  their  danger. 

*'  Yer  cain't  never  tell  what's  going  on  in  a  country  like  this, 
no  way,"  commented  Vandewark  seriously.  "  It's  so  broke  up  with 
hills  an'  hogbacks,  an'  bluffs  an'  valleys  an'  buttes,  a  big  battle  might 
be  fought  within  half  a  dozen  miles  an'  we  never  know  it." 

"  That's  right,  couldn't  even  hear  the  shooting  if  the  wind  was 
against  us,"  Captain  Mason  nodded,  his  face  becoming  still  more 
grave.  "  Perhaps  we  have  made  a  mistake  to  get  in  so  far.  But 
we've  got  to  see  it  through  now.    Hullo,  what  do  you  see,  Osgood  ?  " 

The  boy,  who  had  been  a  silent  but  eager  listener,  was  now 
straining  his  eyes  northward,  pointing  to  a  speck  that  seemed  to  be 
moving  upon  one  of  the  distant  hills. 

"  Injuns,  sure,"  coolly  spoke  up  an  old  teamster. 

Not  a  word  was  uttered  as  each  ran  for  his  gun  and  looked  to 


174         MILITARY     DEPARTMENT    OF    DAKOTA 

his  cartridge  belt  and  canteen.  Cattle  and  horses  were  brought  in 
closer.     Water  pails  were  filled. 

"  There  they  are,  right  over  that  bluff  there,"  Osgood  cried 
excitedly,  as  the  bare  head  of  an  Indian  showed  itself,  apparently 
covered  with  something  white. 

**  Hold  on,  don't  waste  your  cartridges,  men." 

The  captain  was  as  cool  as  a  cucumber. 

Every  gun  was  ready. 

"  It's  a  flag  of  truce  !  "  cried  one. 

As  the  solitary  horseman  came  into  nearer  view,  Vandewark 
exclaimed : 

"  Why,  it's  Old  Faithful,  sure  !  "  They  dropped  their  guns  and 
the  circle  opened  to  receive  him. 

The  Indian  fell  from  his  pony,  exhausted.  His  cheek  was  cut, 
eyes  bloodshot,  his  coat  of  skin  was  torn  as  with  ragged  bullets,  his 
face  blanched  with  fright  and  dismay. 

"  My  God,  man,  speak  ! "  cried  Captain  Mason,  as  the  Indian 
leaned  heavily  upon  his  supporters,  too  dazed  to  reply. 

"Custer  —  " 

He  fainted  before  he  could  say  another  word. 

Water  thrown  in  his  face  and  whiskey  poured  down  his  throat 
by  the  excited  men,  assisted  by  the  almost  frantic  women,  soon  re- 
stored Old  Faithful.     Sitting  up,  he  managed  to  get  out  the  words  : 

"  Custer  dead  !  " 

"  Impossible  "  was  the  word  in  every  eye,  as  each  looked  at  the 
other  incredulously.    Gladys  and  Amelia  grasped  hands  convulsively. 

The  Indian  vouchsafed  : 

"Big  fight  day  before  yesterday.  All  Custer's  men  killed. 
I  rode  to  Terry  for  help,  then  came  here." 

"  How  did  it  happen  ?  " 

"  Custer  led  couple  of  hundred  troopers  in  charge  against  what 
seemed  three  four  hundred  Indians.  They  led  him  on  an'  on,  miles 
from  rest  of  soldiers.  Looked  like  he  was  in  for  big  victory,  when 
thousands  Indians  rushed  out  of  ravines  all  'round." 


AFTER    THE    MASSACRE  175 

"  Well,  didn't  he  send  for  reinforcements  ?  *'  broke  in  Captain 
Mason. 

"  Yes,  but  they  didn't  come,"  responded  the  half-breed  with 
a  shudder  that  expressed  eloquently  the  disappointment  which  the 
little  band  must  have  felt  when  they  realized  that  succor  was  not 
for  them. 

"  Troopers  dismounted,  fought  like  men,  Indians  like  devils. 
Soon  soldiers  all  dead." 

It  sounded  so  unreal,  the  listeners  were  so  spellbound,  not  a 
word  was  uttered  by  them  until  Vandewark,  his  voice  trembling 
with  emotion,  tears  streaming  down  his  roughened  visage,  inquired 
tenderly  : 

"And  Custer?" 

*'  Fell  last,  surrounded  by  officers." 

"  What  then  ?  " 

"  Oh,  my  God  !  Brave  men  cut,  stabbed,  opened,  disem- 
boweled ! " 

The  convulsion  of  horror  and  repugnance  that  shook  the 
listeners  was  even  more  terrible  than  the  effort  Old  Faithful  had 
made  to  narrate  the  facts.  Every  eye  was  wet,  every  heart  almost 
bursting. 

"  But  the  Sioux  —  where  are  they  ?  "  broke  in  Captain  Mason, 
the  instinct  of  self-preservation  overmastering  dismay  at  the  defeat 
and  pity  for  the  dead. 

"Trailing  northward.  But  look  out  for  stragglers.  Terry, 
Gibbon,  Crook  all  arrived,  just  over  the  hills,  only  a  few  miles." 

Thus  reassured.  Captain  Mason  asked  in  awe-struck  tone  : 

"  Did  you  say  all  were  dead  ?  " 

The  two  girls  braced  themselves  for  the  reply. 

*'  Every  one  —  I  alone  escaped."  ^ 

It  was  said  with  the  bitter  despair  of  which  only  Indians  are 
fully  capable. 

"  Brace  up,  Milly,"  said  Gladys  in  vibrant  tones,  as  the  girl  was 
about  to  faint.    The  women  reached  out  lovingly  to  lead  the  girls  away. 


176        MILITARY    DEPARTMENT     OF    DAKOTA 

"  No,  wait,"  said  Gladys,  strangely  composed,  and  going  up  to 
the  Indian  asked  : 

"  Were  Josselyn  and  Joe  in  the  fight  ?  " 

"  I  suppose  so.  I  heard  in  the  night  they  had  got  back  from 
long  scout.     No  one  lives  but  me.     Listen  !  " 

Faintly  upon  the  breeze  from  the  north  came  the  solemn  taps 
of  a  funeral  bugle  call. 

"  It  must  be  Terry  burying  the  dead  !  "  Only  Captain  Mason 
spoke,  with  a  solemnity  that  was  a  requiem. 

Mrs.  Vandewark  carried  Amelia's  limp  form  to  one  side,  lavish- 
ing upon  her  all  the  sympathy  and  caresses  of  a  loving  mother. 

But  Gladys  walked  proudly  erect,  deathly  pale,  with  a  strange 
thoughtfulness  in  her  face. 

"  Help  Milly,  mother,"  she  urged  gently,  and  stood  there 
thinking. 

Meanwhile  the  men  plied  Old  Faithful  with  questions,  all  now 
talking  at  once,  in  their  excitement,  and  making  quite  a  din. 

"  Stop  !  "  It  was  Gladys  again.  She  had  left  the  women  and 
coming  back  to  the  Indian  leaned  over  him. 

"  Now  answer  me  this.  Faithful.  Think  carefully.  Remember 
I  saved  your  life  once.  [The  Indian  gazed  at  her  gratefully.]  You 
did  not  yourself  see  either  Josselyn  or  Joe  ?  " 

"  No,  among  so  many." 

"  When  did  they  leave  Custer,  and  what  for  ?  " 

"  About  three  weeks  ago  to  scout  to  the  north  and  report 
to  Gibbon." 

"  They  are  not  dead  !  " 

Gladys  spoke  with  conviction,  but  the  men  shook  their  heads 
doubtingly,  sorrowfully. 

These  exciting  incidents  had  so  centered  the  attention  of  all 
that  the  bark  of  the  camp  dog  for  once  went  unheeded.  But  now  the 
noise  of  some  animal  making  its  way  through  the  brush  by  the  river 
caught  Amelia's  sensitive  ear.    She  was  in  that  peculiar  state  in  which 


AFTER    THE    MASSACRE  177 

a  woman's  whole  nervous  system  seems  to  be  attuned  to  catch  the 
slightest  sensation.  She  jumped  to  her  feet,  the  fire  in  her  eyes  burn- 
ing so  brightly  Mrs.  Vandewark  at  first  feared  her  mind  was  gone, 
put  her  hand  to  her  ear,  and  bending  forward,  listened  intently. 
The  others,  catching  her  expectant  attitude,  acted  as  though  hypno- 
tized, while  the  sounds  at  length  resolved  themselves  into  the  halting 
steps  of  a  tired  horse,  which  a  moment  later  appeared  in  the  clearing. 

"  Oh,  Joe  ! "  Amelia  cried,  her  heart  in  her  voice,  as  with  one 
bound  she  reached  the  apparently  lifeless  body  in  the  saddle  and  bore 
it  gently  to  the  ground. 

Her  "  Quick,  help  ! "  was  not  needed,  for  all  sprang  to  her 
assistance.  Throwing  open  the  tattered  buckskin,  she  put  her  ear  to 
his  breast. 

"  He  lives  !  " 

The  sturdy  hand  of  Gladys  passed  to  Amelia  the  stimulants, 
under  the  influence  of  which  the  poor  fellow  slowly  revived. 

Only  a  shadow  of  Buckskin  Joe's  former  self  it  was  who  now 
drew  his  hand  feebly,  as  though  bewildered,  across  his  blood-stained 
brow  and  faintly  murmured  ; 

"  Tell  Custer  —  it  was  lie  —  thousands  of  Indians  —  beware  — 
send  help,  Josselyn.     Oh,  Milly." 

Recognition  came  into  the  tired  eyes  for  a  moment  as  the  hand 
sought  her  neck,  and  her  fresh  red  lips  met  his  in  a  kiss  that  brought 
the  exhausted  man  back  to  life  and  love. 

Quicker  than  lightning  Gladys  called  out,  upon  hearing 
Josselyn's  name  : 

"  My  horse,  my  horse  !  " 

But  it  was  unnecessary,  for  at  this  moment  an  even  more  gaunt, 
bloody  and  bedraggled  form  staggered  into  camp  from  the  brush,  and 
clutching  by  the  shoulder  the  first  one  he  met,  whispered  hoarsely : 

"  Where's  Custer  ?     Give  him  this  dispatch  !  " 

It  was  Gladys  he  had  grasped,  and  her  strong  arm  that  sus- 
tained him  ere  he  fell.  Her  eye  caught  his  before  the  tired  lids  could 
close.     With  a  superhuman  effort  he  gathered  himself  up  manfully, 


178        MILITARY    DEPARTMENT    OF    DAKOTA 

masterfully,  a  vast  joy  lit  up  the  weary  eyes,  and  holding  out  his  torn 
and  begrimed  hands : 

"  Sweetheart !  "  was  all  he  said. 

"My  Jerome"  —  and  Gladys  folded  the  weary  frame  to  her 
strong,  virgin  bosom  that  rose  and  fell  in  mighty  heartbeats. 

Old  Faithful  staggered  to  his  feet  and  joined  the  silent  on- 
lookers. There  were  tears  in  every  ej^e — a  moment  of  supreme 
silence,  of  deep  joy,  then  a  fervent  "  Thank  God "  from  Captain 
Mason,  a  universal  "  Amen,"  followed  by  the  clapping  of  hands  and 
excited  congratulations. 

But  Osgood,  startled  by  a  sudden  thought,  scratched  his  head, 
then,  his  "nose  for  news"  catching  intuitively  at  the  real  thing,  with 
a  whoop  of  enthusiasm  cried  out : 

"  By  the  jumping  Jehoshaphat,  a  double  wedding  instead  of  a 
funeral  —  what  a  scoop  for  the  Standard  !  " 

He  dropped  to  the  ground,  pulled  a  pad  from  his  pocket, 
slapped  it  on  his  knee,  and  his  left  hand  fairly  flew  back  and  forth 
across  the  paper  as  he  yelled  to  a  friend  : 

"  Oh,  Charlie,  saddle  your  horse,  hike  lively  to  Terry's  camp  — 
tell  'em  to  rush  this  press  dispatch  from  the  first  telegraph  office 
they  reach,  and  —  damn  the  expense  !  " 


Osgood 


Sitting  BuU 


D.  F.  Barry,  Photo 


EPILOGUE 

Cache  la  Poudre 

CONCLUSION 

At  Home  on  the 
Ranch 


Custer  Was  a  Mighty  Hunter 


ais  well  as  a  peerless  fighter  of  Indians.  Even  on  the  Little  Big  Horn  campaign,  he  had  an 
opportunity  to  indulge  in  the  sport.  This  engraving  is  from  the  only  photograph  in  existence, 
loaned  by  Mrs.  Custer.  General  Custer  wore  the  blue  shirt  and  buckskin  coat  on  the  march, 
sometimes,  as  well  as  when  hunting. 


At  Home  on  the  Ranch 


'^^^^:j^--- \'  ^\ 


HE  Sanderson  ranch  was 
bathed  in  all  the  magnificent 
glory  of  an  unsurpassed  Col- 
orado sunset.  The  golden 
wheat  fields  stretched  away 
down  the  Cache  la  Poudre  as  far  as 
eye  could  see.  The  old  log  house  was 
now  supplemented  by  a  new  structure, 
resplendent  in  fresh  paint  and  gen- 
erous piazza,  with  picturesque  background  of  cottonwoods. 
The  corrals  and  feed  lots,  the  beautiful  horses  and 
sturdy  mules,  the  old  and  new  stacks  of  alfalfa  hay,  all  the 
paraphernalia  of  fields,  ranch  and  homestead,  evidenced  a 
peculiar  air  of  thrift  and  contentment. 

Just  the  human  touch  needed  to  complete  the  picture 
was  afforded  by  a  young  woman  on  the  porch,  rocking 
gently,  as  she  crooned  a  mother-love  song  to  the  infant  at 
her  breast. 


184  EPILOGUE 

Old  Mrs.  Sanderson  bustled  out  from  the  house  in  a  comfort- 
able, grandmotherly  way,  and  speaking  low  so  as  not  to  disturb  the 
baby,  asked  : 

"  And  how  is  the  dear  little  thing  now,  Gladys  ?  " 

"  Oh,  she  grows  to  look  more  like  Jerome  every  day." 

"  The  idea,  Gladys,  of  a  baby  eight  weeks  old  resembling  any- 
body !  But  I  declare,"  Mother  Sanderson  exclaimed,  inspecting  the 
lump  of  humanity  and  glancing  affectionately  from  mother  to  child, 
**  I  do  believe  she  favors  you,  after  all." 

Mrs.  James  snuggled  the  baby  still  closer,  flushing  delightedly 
at  the  old  lady's  remark,  and  inquired  : 

"  It's  most  time  for  Jerome  to  be  back,  with  our  friends  who 
are  coming  to  dinner,  isn't  it  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  think  that's  his  team  coming  down  the  road  now," 
answered  Mrs.  Sanderson,  with  eagerness.  "And  there's  Amelia  and 
Joe  driving  behind  —  and  Captain  Mason  and  Osgood,  on  horseback, 
sure  as  the  world." 

What  a  gladsome  welcome  they  all  received  !  How  simply 
genuine  their  pleasure,  as  they  gathered  around  the  table  Mother 
Sanderson  knew  so  well  how  to  make  hospitable.  With  what  interest 
the  guests  inquired  about  the  baby,  until  Amelia  asked  : 

"  Haven't  you  named  her  yet  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,"  replied  Gladys  with  feeling,  as  she  looked  into  her 
husband's  eyes. 

Jerome  took  the  hint.  "  Her  name  is  Frances,"  he  said  in  a 
tone  that  trembled  with  ill-concealed  emotion. 

"  How  lovely  !  "  Amelia  cried,  but  stopped  short,  considerately. 
There  was  silence  for  a  moment  or  two  —  an  unuttered  tribute  to  the 
departed  which  expresses  so  much  more  than  words  can  convey. 

Then  how  naturally  the  conversation  drifted  to  the  events  one 
and  two  years  before.  How  they  lived  over  again  all  the  exciting 
incidents  of  those  troublous  times.  With  what  absorbing  interest 
they  discussed  every  scrap  of  information  that  had  come  to  light 
about  the  Custer  massacre,  until  Sheriff  Mason  (for  he  had  been 
re-elected  upon  his  return)  declared  : 


AT    HOME    ON    THE    RANCH 


185 


*'  Well,  it's  no  use  talking.  No  one  will  ever  know  what  hap- 
pened on  that  battlefield.     But  Custer  —  " 

Osgood,  who  had  been  comparatively  silent  —  for  him  —  here 
interrupted  : 

*'  That  mystery  will  be  solved  if  it  takes  me  a  lifetime  !  "  and 
he  brought  down  his  fist  with  a  bang  to  emphasize  his  remark. 


It  did  not  take  a  lifetime,  but  it  did  require  more  than  twenty- 
five  years  of  earnest  effort  to  ascertain  and  verify  the  whole  truth. 

But  that  is  another  story  —  or  rather,  it  is  an  entirely  new 
chapter  in  American  history ,^^  which  when  told  must  increase  the 
public's  interest  in  the  making  of  the  west,  and  add  to  the  imperish- 
able honor  of  Custer  and  his  men. 


Mystery  of  the  Custer  battlefield 

Stones  indicate  where  bodies  were  found. 
Monument  on  elevation  in  distance,  near 
which  Custer  is  supposed  to  have  fallen. 


ADDENDA 

Cache  la  Poudre 

NOTE  and  COMMENT 

Supplementary  Portraits 
and  Paragraphs 


"  The  Old  Grout  ' 


The  "  Old  Grout "  in  Fort  Collins,  Colorado, 
built  in  1865  for  the  settlers  of  the  post,  was 
torn  down  about  1900.  For  twenty  years  the 
upper  hall  was  the  place  for  popular  gather- 
ings, whether  to  devise  ways  and  means  of 
withstanding  threatened  Indian  raids,  or  for 
political  debates,  social  dances,  and  the  like. 

The  dinner  given  in  this  building  in  1868  by 
Friday,  chief  of  the  Arapahoe  Indians,  is  still 
remembered  by  the  oldest  settlers.  One  of  Fri- 
day's squaws  was  a  captive  Ute  maiden,  and  a 
party  of  Utes  came  down  from  the  mountains 
to  see  how  she  was  getting  along.  The  Utes 
had  a  big  feed,  were  waited  upon  by  Friday's 
squaws,  and  departed  peaceably,  but  in  a  few 
days  Friday  was  a  grass-widower.  All  his 
squaws  deserted  him  for  the  handsome  Utes. 

Grout  is  the  homely  name  for  a  mixture  of 
lime  or  cement,  sand,  coarse  gravel  and  small 
stones ;  also  called  concrete.  The  mass,  when 
well  moistened  and  made  homogeneous,  is 
poured  into  the  wall  space  formed  by  boards 
set  on  edge,  which  are  raised  as  the  grout 
hardens.  It  makes  a  very  durable  structure. 
Of  late  years,  improvements  in  cement  manu- 
facture and  in  its  application  to  this  purpose 


are  making  grout  one  of  the  cheapest  of  dur- 
able building  materials.  Yet  the  most  efficient 
use  of  grout  is  indeed  a  lost  art.  From  four 
hundred  to  six  hundred  years  ago,  applications 
of  masses  of  concrete  and  of  mortar  were  made 
by  builders  in  India  so  successfully  that  those 
structures  still  stand  as  an  everlasting  monu- 
ment to  the  lost  art.  The  tomb  of  Ibrahim 
at  Bijapur,  India,  for  instance,  is  forty  feet 
square,  covered  by  a  stone  or  concrete  roof 
perfectly  flat  in  the  center  and  supported  only 
by  a  cove  projecting  ten  feet  from  the  walls 
on  every  side.  There  are  no  beams,  cornices 
or  supports  for  the  roof  or  the  overhang. 
The  tomb  of  Mahmud,  at  the  same  place,  is 
an  example  of  concrete  construction  applied 
to  a  tomb  larger  than  that  of  the  Pantheon  at 
Rome.  Mahmud's  tomb  also  embodies  prin- 
ciples of  construction  and  support  peculiar  to 
itself,  but  capable  of  wide  application.  If  the 
present  generation  could  discover  the  secret 
of  such  uses  of  concrete,  which  are  the  marvel 
of  the  few  modern  architects  familiar  with 
them,  this  material  would  rapidly  come  into 
imiversal  use  for  building  purposes. 


Addenda 


JAY  GOULD 

^Xote  I, page  ig) 

Born  at  Roxbury,  N.  Y.,  27  May  1836,  "  of 
poor  but  honest  parents,"  died  at  New  York 
2  Dec-ember  189;^,  worth  upward  of  100  mil- 
lions. He  was  a  consummate  financier,  but 
his  principles  and  operations  were  criticised 
with  the  greatest  severity.  He  bought,  bled  and 
sold  railroad  and  telegraph  corporations,  and 
stopped  at  nothing  to  secure  legislation  or  court 
decisions  favorable  to  his  interests.  He  used 
large  sums  in  this  way.  He  testified  before  an 
investigating  committee :  "  In  a  republican 
district  1  was  a  strong  republican ;  in  a  demo- 
cratic district  I  was  a  democrat,  and  in  a  doubt- 
ful district  1  was  doubtful,  but  in  politics  I  was 
an  Erie  railroad  man  all  the  time."  Gould  was 
also  a  great  organizer.  He  consolidated  numer 
ous  small  railways  into  a  few  large  systems, 
and  thus  introduced  the  "  trust  "  idea  that  has 
taken  on  such  gigantic  proportions  in  these 
later  years.  While  most  bitterly  maligned  for 
his  financial  methods,  Gould's  private  life  was 
above  reproach.  He  believed  in  paying  high 
salaries  and  good  wages,  and  once  retorted  to 
his  critics :  "  History  will  record  that  I  am 
the  largest  employer  and  pay  the  largest 
wages  of  anj'  man  of  this  era  in  the  world." 

BLACK  FRIDAY 

{.Voie  2,  page  20 ) 

24  September  1869,  when  the  speculation 
in  gold  at  New  York  city  reached  its  climax 
of  frenzy  and  ruin.  Gould  and  Fisk  began 
buying  gold  in  March  of  that  year,  paying 
$132  in  paper  for  $100  of  gold  money.  In 
September  the  conspiracy  attracted  interna- 
tional attention,  and  was  marked  by  whole- 
sale chicanery.  On  the  morning  of  the  24th, 
the  price  advanced  to  165,  ruin  threatened  all 
who  had  contracted  to  supply  gold,  when  the 
secretary  of  the  treasury  oflFered  to  sell  $5,000,- 
000  of  gold  at  135,  and  prices  fell  with  a  crash. 
Gouid  sold  out  his  own  supply  of  the  yellow 
metal    before  the   break,   which  ruined    his 


friends  and  hundreds  of  others.  Frantic  ex- 
citement followed,  men  went  crazy  in  the 
crowd  that  surged  through  Wall  street,  Spey- 
er's  hair  turned  white  in  a  night,  large  failures 
were  announced,  millions  in  contracts  were 
repudiated,  the  national  administration  was 
apparently  (but  not  really)  involved,  the  na- 
tion disgraced  and  its  credit  broken. 

This  speculation  hastened  the  resumption  of 
specie  payments,  1  January  1879,  when  gold 
fell  to  par  and  has  since  remained  there. 
The  stock  of  gold  in  United  States  treasury 
1  January  1879,  was  only  $135,000,000,  or 
less  than  $2.50  per  capita,  while  on  1  January 
1904,  it  was  nearly  $7(K),000,000,  or  more  than 
$9  per  capita.  World's  production  of  gold  in 
ten  years  ended  1903  was  double  the  product 
of  the  previous  ten  years;  for  1903,  it  was 
three  times  as  much  as  in  1879.  From  the 
resumption  of  specie  payments  in  1879  to  1903 
inclusive,  the  United  States  imported  gold  to 
the  value  of  1,155  millions  of  dollars  and 
exported  1,044  millions,  or  a  net  gain  in 
imports  over  exports  of  111  millions. 

THE  PANIC  OF  SEPTEMBER,  1873 

{iVote  J,  page  20) 

was  caused  by  a  collapse  in  the  value  of 
railroad  bonds  and  shares.  Few  would  buy, 
everyone  wanted  to  sell.  Many  big  financial 
firms  failed,  headed  by  Jay  Cooke  &  Co.  It 
was  the  end  of  an  orgy  of  speculation  and  crime 
in  high  places.  Many  banks  closed  their  doors. 
The  Erie  stocks  were  not  so  responsible  for  this 
particular  crash  as  the  text  intimates,  but  the 
vast  overissues  of  Erie  railroad  shares  at  some- 
what earlier  dates,  and  Gould's  shameless 
speculation  therein,  are  the  historical  facts 
upon  which  the  prologue  scene  is  based. 

The  shrinkages  from  previous  quotations  in 
the  "readjustments"  of  1902-3  were  much 
greater  than  the  relative  declines  quoted  in 
1873-4.  Single  weeks  of  1903  witnessed  much 
more  severe  declines  than  those  for  which 
September,  1873,  is  famous.     But  there  were 


190 


ADDENDA 


FiSK 


comparatively  few  failures,  repudiations  or 
receiverships  in  1903,  although  the  country 
had  passed  through  an  era  of  financial  specu- 
lation in  "  industrials  "  outrivaling  by  far  that 
of  thirty  years  ago.  Declines  of  25  to  50  per 
cent  in  railroad  shares  and  still  more  severe 
losses  in  Amalgamated  Copper  and  in  many 
industrials,  characterized  the  "  readjustment " 
of  1903.  Two  years  later  most  of  the  declines 
had  been  fully  recovered,  with  a  few  conspic- 
uous exceptions. 

JIM  FISK 

{^Note  4,  page  20) 

It  has  been  suggested 
that  the  "  Napoleon  of 
Finance  "  referred  to 
was  James  Fisk.  But 
that  notorious  specula- 
tor and  libertine  had 
been  shot  in  cold  blood 
by  Edward  S.  Stokes 
as  he  was  going  up  the 
stairway  of  the  Grand 
Central  hotel.  New  York,  at  4  p.  m.,  6  January 
1872.  Stokes  was  convicted  and  sentenced 
to  be  hanged,  was  re-tried  and  convicted  of 
manslaughter  in  the  third  degree,  for  which  he 
served  a  short  term  in  state's  prison.  He  re- 
turned to  New  York,  prospered  financially, 
lived  quietly  and  died  in 
1902.  It  was  then  stated 
that  for  twenty  years 
Stokes  had  slept  only  in  a 
brilliantly  lighted  room, 
because  in  the  dark  he 
was  always  haunted  by 
the  memory  of  his  crime. 
The  immediate  cause  of 
the  shooting  was  a  bitter 
quarrel  over  the  beauti- 
Stokes  ful  courtesan,  Josie  Mans- 

field. This  woman's  power 
and  the  financial  and  moral  debauchery  of 
those  days  in  New  York  is  reflected  in  the 
fact  that  "  in  the  course  of  the  Erie  railroad 
litigations,  a  judge  of  the  state  supreme  court 
held  court  in  her  apartments  and  issued  orders 
from  there." 


GOULD  AND  ERIE 

(AWc  J,  />age  2j  ) 

Between  1  July  and  24  October  1868,  not 
less  than  235,000  new  shares  of  the  Erie  rail- 
road were  issued  "  on  the  quiet,"  of  a  par  value 
of  $100  each,  and  quotations  for  the  stock  fell 
from  81  to  35,  an  unprecedented  decline  at 
that  time.  Compare  it  with  the  drop  in 
United  States  Steel  common  from  $47  per 
share  (par  value  $100)  to  less  than  $10  in  1903, 
or  the  fall  of  Amalgamated  Copper  from  $130 
per  share  in  1901  to  $33  in  1903. 

CHEROKEE  TRAIL 

(JVote  6,  page  j/ ) 

The  Overland  stage  company's  route  at  first 
followed  the  line  laid  out  by  the  old  Pony 
Express  company  along  the  North  Platte  river, 
but  the  Indians  speedily  taking  possession  of 
that,  made  necessary  the  change  of  the  line 
further  south.  So  the  route  was  laid  out  upon 
the  South  Platte  to  Denver,  along  the  old 
Cherokee  trail  just  outside  the  hogbacks  to 
La  Porte,  thence  to  Virginia  Dale,  Fort  Hal- 
leck.  Big  Laramie  and  Cooper's  Creek,  on 
toward  Salt  Lake  City.  This  was  the  trail 
that  for  unknown  years  previously  had  been 
followed  by  the  Cherokee  and  other  Indians 
upon  their  hunting  trips  into  the  mountains  or 
upon  their  migrations  westward.  Part  of  the 
way,  through  Colorado,  this  trail  had  been 
taken  by  Brigham  Young  and  the  Mormon 
hejira  from  Nauvoo,  Illinois,  to  Salt  Lake 
in  1846-8. 

THE  CACHE  LA  POUDRE  RIVER 

{iVoie  7,  page  j/ ) 

gets  its  name  from  the  action  of  a  French 
scout,  Antoine  Jannisse,  who  went  west  early  in 
the  last  century  in  the  employ  of  the  old  St. 
Louis  Fur  Trading  Company,  a  concern  that 
aspired  to  become  for  the  American  west  what 
the  Hudson  Bay  Company  then  was  for  Canada 
and  the  unknown  northwest  countrj^  Jan- 
nisse left  the  company's  employ  long  enough 
to  be  a  trusted  scout  for  General  John  C.  Fre- 
mont, upon  the  Pathfinder's  first  expedition  in 
1842,  when  he  discovered  the  South  Pass  of 
the   Rocky  Mountains.     Jannisse  finally  set- 


ADDENDA 


191 


tied  in  the  Poudre  valley  (then  unnamed), 
took  a  Cheyenne  squaw  to  wife,  who  was  a 
"kind,  good  mother  and  faithful  wife,"  his 
son  told  the  writer.  These  early  traders  lived 
at  peace  with  the  Indians,  and  gathered  rich 
furs  in  exchange  for  trinkets.  It  was  not 
until  the  whites  began  to  build  forts  and  the 
soldiers  to  shoot  buffalo  that  trouble  began. 

One  night  French  Pete  rushed  breathlessly 
into  the  Jannisse  camp  with  the  news  that  the 
Apaches,  Sioux  and  Cheyennes  had  taken  the 
warpath,  and  were  about  to  descend  upon  the 
camp  to  kill  its  occupants  and  steal  their  guns, 
powder  and  horses.  Their  supply  of  powder 
was  large  and  priceless.  "What  should  be 
done  with  it?"  asked  Jannisse,  looking  at  his 
wife.  She  raised  her  hand,  then  let  it  fall  by 
her  side,  pointing  downward.  Taking  the 
hint,  they  fell  to  and  dug  a  deep  hole,  in 
which  the  powder  was  placed  and  covered 
with  skins  and  provisions,  the  soil  was  thrown 
back,  a  fire  kindled  over  it  and  broken 
branches  scattered  about.  They  then  fled, 
returning  weeks  afterward  to  find  their  cabin 
burned,  but  the  powder  safe.  "  When  you 
get  into  trouble,  Antoine,"  said  the  old  trap- 
per to  his  son,  "  always  cache  la  poudre  "  —  a 
remark  that  soon  became  current,  and  the 
river  began  to  be  called  by  that  name.  A 
depression  in  Pleasant  valley,  near  the  city  of 
Fort  Collins,  is  still  pointed  out  as  the  place 
where  the  powder  was  buried.  French  Pete 
boasted  that  he  never  wasted  anrmiimition, 
but  always  contrived  to  get  two  Indians  in 
range  and  kill  them  both  with  one  shot ! 

ARROYO 

(j\'o(f  8^ page 32) 

is  a  generic  term  applied  to  a  great  variety 
of  land  formations,  but  indicating  always  a 
course  taken  by  water  when  water  comes.  It 
may  be  deep  or  shallow,  wide  or  narrow, 
straight  or  sinuous.  It  may  accommodate  a 
flow  of  water  frequently,  or  only  once  in 
years.  These  dry  beds  of  absent  streams  are 
often  used  as  roadways,  because  affording  the 
best  grade  or  trail.  The  arroyo  may  even 
run  for  a  distance  between  high  and  precipi- 
tous walls,  yet  the  formation  not  be  dignified 
by  the  term  canyon.     Sometimes  a   wall   of 


water  several  feet  deep  comes  rushing  down 
an  arroyo  without  the  slightest  previous  warn- 
ing —  the  result  of  a  cloudburst  at  a  distance. 
Then  woe  betide  any  who  may  be  driving  or 
camping  in  the  arroyo,  for  if  its  walls  are 
steep  they  are  likely  to  be  drowned  before 
they  can  escape  the  seething  flood.  Instinct 
seems  to  warn  cattle  or  other  animals  against 
such  dangers. 

NOSTALGIA 

(^Xote  g,  page  S3 ) 

the  technical  term  for  homesickness,  is  now 
well  recognized  as  a  malady  of  the  mind, 
which  may  have  most  serious  effects  also  upon 
the  body,  the  will  and  the  character.  To  this 
disease  in  a  measure  is  due  the  death,  insanity 
or  invalidism  of  many  a  brave  boy  in  the 
American  army  of  the  Philippines.  Next  to 
going  home,  the  best  treatment  is  to  receive 
jolly,  cheerful  and  encouraging  letters  from 
home. 

A  trace  of  homesickness  is  often  manifested 
among  many  old  residents  at  the  west,  in  the 
common  reference  to  "  back  home,"  meaning 
thereby  their  place  of  birth ;  it  may  be  in  our 
own  eastern  states  or  in  some  foreign  country. 
Pathetic  emphasis  on  this  point  was  afforded 
by  a  contest  conducted  by  the  author  some 
years  ago  to  draw  out  suggestions  from  his 
western  readers  whereby  his  journal  could  be 
made  still  more  interesting  to  them.  Un- 
known to  each  other,  more  than  a  hundred 
women,  from  all  parts  of  the  prairie  country, 
wrote  in  substance :  "  I  was  brought  up  on  the 
rock-bound  Atlantic  coast,  married,  and  came 
west  years  ago.  I  have  never  seen  the  ocean 
since.  I  am  too  old  or  too  poor  to  go  back 
now.  But  God  only  knows  how  we  women 
have  missed  the  ocean.     Tell  us  about  the  sea." 

BEGINNINGS  OF  FORT  COLLINS 

{A^ote  10,  page  ^r ) 

The  settlement  at  old  Fort  Collins  had  been 
made  in  1864  by  the  removal  from  La  Porte 
of  Camp^  Collins,  then  occupied  by  Company 
F,  Eleventh  Ohio  volunteer  cavalry,  under 
Captain  William  H.  Evans.  The  finest  resi- 
dence in  the  fort  in  1865  was  the  colonel's 
quarters,  shown  in  the  picture  on  next  page. 


192 


ADDENDA 


Camp  Collins  was  established  as  a  protec- 
tion against  Indians.  From  1863  to  1865 
Indians  (Sioux  mostly)  were  so  numerous  and 
so  ugly  on  the  Nebraska  and  Colorado  plains 


The  Finest  REsmKN-fE  in  Camp  Collins,  1865 

that  all  stages  and  trains  of  wagons  traveling 
west  from  Julesburg  were  given  escorts  of  ten 
to  twenty  men,  unless  there  were  over  one 
hundred  men  with  the  train.  Frank  McClel- 
land writes :  "  Occasionally  a  train  would  slip 
past  the  garrison,  and  the  next  company  over 
the  trail  coming  to  the  smouldering  ruins  of 
wagons  and  contents,  would  perform  frontier 
funeral  ceremonies  over  the  scalped  and  muti- 
lated bodies.  The  old  South  Platte  trail  was 
dotted  with  little  mounds,  the  length  of  each 
being  the  only  guide  as  to  whether  the  occupant 
was  child  or  adult.  Most  of  the  Indian  mur- 
ders were  accomplished  in  the  early  morning, 
while  the  camps  were  busied  with  breakfast. 
Sometimes  the  trail,  taken  at  sunrise,  was 
followed  until  afternoon,  and  then  the  assault 
commenced.  But  the  Indian  loves  his  night's 
rest,  and  attacks  are  seldom  made  in  the 
afternoon,  except  in  case  of  an  ambush  along 
the  road,  and  never  at  night.  Government 
couriers  riding  across  land  occupied  by  hostile 
reds  traveled  at  night  from  one  point  of  safety 
to  another,  and  thus  escaped  all  danger  of 
being  waylaid." 

La  Porte,  now  an  humble  village,  was  the 
first  settlement  in  the  Cache  la  Poudre  valley, 
established  in  1858  by  John  B.  Provost  and  a 
party  of  Frenchmen  from  the  frontier  post  of 
Fort  Laramie.  It  was  called  Colona,  and  the 
founders  anticipated  its  unlimited  commercial 
greatness.  This  expectation,  characteristic  of 
the  founders  of  new  towns  everywhere,  is  one 


of  the  most  interesting  manifestations  of  the 
psychology  of  hope.  "  The  visitor  to  La  Porte 
can  see  the  remains  of  a  town  that  once 
dec-lined  to  trade,  lot  for  lot,  with  Denver, 
and  even  looked  with  contempt  on  the  offer." 

GROUT 

{A'ote  II,  page  41) 
See  description  and  illustration  on  page  188. 

QUEER  CHARACTERS 

{IVote  12^  page  41 ) 

Back  of  Shang  &  Pew's  market  was  a  small 
room  in  which  lived  and  worked  a  queer  little 
cobbler.  A  short,  squatty  chap,  with  bushy 
black  hair,  hypnotic  eyes,  sallow  complexion, 
"  in  league  with  the  devil "  the  boys  used  to 
say.  Mysterious  stories  were  told  of  his  black 
arts.  My  own  strange  experience  with  him 
will  never  be  forgotten.  It  was  late  in  the 
evening  of  a  dark  windy  night,  when  two  of 
us  boys  sought  an  hour's  amusement  in  the 
cobbler's  shop.  He  seemed  unusually  respon- 
sive in  his  talk  and  manner  and  regaled  us 
with  wonderful  stories,  meanwhile  running  his 
hands  constantly  through  his  hair,  until  his 
whole  head  seemed  to  emit  sparks  and  be  on 
fire.  "  Now  watch,"  he  said.  Taking  my 
little  cane,  he  rubbed  it  vigorously,  then  set  it 
upright  on  the  floor.  "  Now  march  to  the 
corner,"  he  spoke  to  the  stick,  and  it  went 
hopping  across  the  floor  as  though  imbued 
with  life.  "  Come  to  me,"  and  he  beckoned 
to  the  stick,  which  came  hopping  back  and 
fell  with  a  clang  at  my  feet !  Was  I  hypno- 
tized, or  the  stick?  In  the  same  fashion,  he 
caused  a  lady's  shoe  to  hop  across  the  floor 
and  back  to  him. 

FEELING  RAN  HIGH 

{N'ote  ij,  page  42 ) 

between  the  denizens  of  old  Fort  Collins  and 
of  the  new  colony.  The  latter  were  at  first 
contemptuously  regarded  as  interlopers,  "  ten- 
derfeet,"  and  inferiors.  The  old  settlers  re- 
garded themselves  as  the  elite,  and  the  old 
fort,  with  its  surrounding  houses,  was  to  them 
the  hub  of  their  universe.  They  resented  the 
idea  of  a  new  town  being  laid  out  adjacent  to 


ADDENDA 


198 


their  sacred  preserves,  the  more  so  as  the  new 
colony  ignored  the  "  rights  "  of  the  fort  to  be 
the  "center."  For  many  years  there  were 
few  buildings  on  the  connecting  streets  be- 
tween the  two  portions  of  the  town,  and  only 
since  1890  has  the  feeling  between  the  two 
sections  been  wholly  obliterated. 

Spite  between  old  and  new  towns  has  been 
no  small  factor  in  western  development. 
Growth  of  the  new  part  usually  meant  de- 
cline of  the  old  and  loss  of  values.  Rivalry 
between  two  towns  to  be  chosen  as  the  county 
seat,  or  for  railway  favoritism,  is  still  keen  in 
some  of  the  newer  states.  N.ot  so  many  years 
ago,  the  people  in  one  enterprising  Kansas 
town  turned  out  en  masse  at  night  with  their 
teams,  put  on  rollers  the  frame  court  house 
that  stood  in  a  rival  town,  and  dragged  it 
over  to  their  own  bailiwick.  At  the  election 
the  next  week,  the  voters  of  the  county, 
impressed  by  this  incident,  decided  by  a  large 
majority  to^  let  the  county  seat  remain  in  the 
|X)ssession  of  the  people  who  wanted  it  so 
badly.  St.  Paul  and  Minneapolis  for  years 
afforded  a  brilliant  example  of  western  town 
spite  and  rivalry. 

MODERN  IRRIGATION 

(Note  14,  page  42 ) 

in  Colorado,  which  is  now  assuming  such  gi- 
gantic proportions,  originated  in  the  Cache  la 
Eoudre  valley.  The  first  ditch  was  a  little 
affair  taken  out  by  one  Lytton  in  1859,  to  ir- 
rigate a  small  garden,  near  the  present  city  of 
Fort  Collins.  The  ditch  was  slightly  improved 
in  1861,  and  greatly  enlarged  in  1864  by  the  then 
owner,  Joshua  Hull  Yeager.  In  1865  he  sowed 
seven  acres  to  wheat,  the  seed  costing  sixteen 
cents  a  pound,  but  the  yield  was  forty-three 
bushels  to  the  acre,  which  was  sold  for  seed 
for  twelve  and  one-half  cents  per  pound.  This 
was  the  first  crop  of  wheat  grown  in  the  Pou- 
dre  valley.  But  it  was  nearly  ten  years  after 
irrigation  had  been  used  in  the  valley  before 
it  was  discovered  that  the  higher  lands  of  the 
prairie  were  equally  fertile,  provided  they 
were  properly  irrigated. 

Irrigation  is  now  being  reduced  to  a  science, 
as  are  other  branches  of  agriculture.  It  is 
also  being  undertaken  on  a  gigantic  scale  by 


the  federal  government.  Under  the  law  of 
1902,  proceeds  of  sales  of  public  lands  in  the 
arid  states  are  to  be  used  for  constructing 
storage  reservoirs  and  main  ditches.  The 
land  reclaimed  by  these  works  is  to  be  sold 
only  to  actual  settlers.  Within  a  few  years 
$50,000,000  will  thus  have  been  expended  by 
government,  and  every  dollar  covered  back 
into  the  treasury  from  sales  of  the  lands  im- 
proved. Some  enthusiasts  look  for  ideal  social 
conditions  to  develop  under  the  system  of 
small  farms  and  co-operative  effort  that  are 
expected  to  result  from  this  paternalism. 

J.  S.  McCLELLAN 

{Note  IS, pi^  44) 

founded  the  Larimer 
County  Express  in  1872, 
the  first  paper  to  be 
established  in  that  sec- 
tion. He  made  it  a 
power  in  local  affairs, 
but  his  vigor  of  expres- 
sion sometimes  got  him 
into  trouble.  One  irate 
citizen  attempted  to 
whip  him  and  came  off 
with  a  wisp  of  the  edi- 
tor's red  chin  whiskers  —  a  trophy  that  was 
long  preserved.  There  was  even  more  feel- 
ing between  the  Express  and  the  Standard 
than  may  be  inferred  by  the  text.  On  one 
occasion  Editor  McClellan  wrote:  "We  ob- 
serve that  the  Standard  is  so  poor  its  editor 
has  to  wash  his  own  shirt,"  to  which  that 
paper  replied :  "  It  is  true  that  we  wash  our 
own  shirt,  also  that  it  is  paid  for,  but  judging 
from  his  appearance,  the  shirt  of  the  editor 
of  the  Express  is  not  only  never  washed,  but 
resembles  his  other  property  in  having  a 
mortgage  on  it !  "  When  the  Standard  gave 
up  the  ghost,  the  Express  announced  the  fact 
under  the  big  scare  head,  "Kerflumraixed  ! !  " 
every  letter  in  which  was  of  a  different  font 
to  still  further  emphasize  the  discomfiture  of 
its  "esteemed  contemporary."  These  ameni- 
ties of  journalism  were  then  the  style,  Greeley 
and  •  Bennett  setting  the  example  on  the  New 
York  Tribune  and  Herald.  About  1880,  Mr. 
McClellan  retired  to"  his  farm,  which  is  today 


J.  S.  McClellax 


194 


ADDENDA 


an  example  of  the  highest  culture.  He  is 
president  of  the  Colorado  state  horticultural 
society,  and  his  sons  have  attained  enviable 
positions.  He  has  a  fine  record  of  active  serv- 
ice during  the  war  of  1861-5,  and  the  peculi- 
arities of  his  editorial  career  were  partly  due 
to  disease  contracted  in  the  army.  Of  late 
years  he  was  a  Populist  leader,  and  candidate 
for  congress.  It  was  a  crime  against  history 
when  his  successor  celebrated  the  purchase  of 
the  Express  by  making  a  bonfire  of  the  old 
files,  thus  destroying  the  only  existing  record 
of  a  most  interesting  period  of  the  com- 
munity's life. 

ANDREW  ARMSTRONG 

{jVote  /6,  page  4^ ) 

in  1905,  still  young  in  spite  of  more  than  eighty 
years,  seems  as  hale  and  hearty  as  ever.  "  The 
same  stubborn  old  Irishman,  and  is  all  right 
as  long  as  he  has  his  own  way."  He  brought 
some  capital  from  New  York,  upon  his  arrival 
in  1873,  which  he  has  largely  augmented  by 


AM>liE\V   Ali.MSTKONG 

thrift  and  judgment,  and  from  the  first  has 
been  a  leading  citizen  and  a  power  —  a  good 
type  of  all  that  is  best  in  the  Americanized 
Irishman. 

A  PIONEER  WOMAN 

(A'oie  20,  page  46 ) 

of  the  genuine  old-fashioned  sort  was  Mrs. 
Elizabeth  Stone,  born  at  Hartford,  Ct.,  1801, 
died  at  Fort  Collins,  1895.  Her  childhood 
was  spent  in  the  wilds  of  western  New  York. 


"Aunty  Stonk"  at  Ninetv 

Married  at  an  early  age,  the  young  couple 
took  up  a  homestead  on  the  Illinois  prairie, 
where  the  husband  died.  Women  were  scarce 
and  men  plenty,  so  in  due  time  she  here  mar- 
ried Dr.  Stone.  They  wanted  "  more  room," 
and  journeyed  by  wagon  to  Missouri,  passing 
through  the  few  huts  known  as  St.  Louis. 
After  battling  with  privations  and  ague,  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Stone  sought  the  still  rougher  country 
of  Minnesota,  where  Indians  were  their  only 
neighbors.  Coming  by  wagon  across  the  plains 
to  Fort  Collins  in  1864,  her  husband  died  the 
next  year.  Although  the  only  white  woman 
in  the  valley,  instead  of  giving  up.  Aunty 
Stone  now  developed  remarkable  executive 
capacity.  The  woman,  unaided,  built  the 
first  flouring  mill  north  of  Denver,  the  first 
mill-race,  the  first  brick  kiln,  the  first  brick 
house,  "  and  was  the  first  white  woman  to  cook 
a  meal  of  victuals  in  this  town."  She  was 
"  aunty  "  to  all  the  soldiers,  "  mother  "  to  the 
women,  boys  and  settlers  who  gradually  joined 
the  community.  She  was  a  wonderful  dancer. 
At  a  ball  held  in  the  Standard  building,  she 
being  very  nimble  on  her  feet,  although  eighty- 


ADDENDA 


195 


one  years  old,  a  dozen  young  men  entered  into 
a  conspiracy  to  "  dance  her  down."  Each  in 
rotation  invited  her  to  dance  with  him,  which 
she  did,  and  kept  it  up  until  he  was  exhausted. 
At  5  a.  m.  the  old  lady  still  held  the  floor,  and 
the  last  of  the  conspirators  owned  up  de- 
feated. Then  she  went  home  and  got  break- 
fast for  a  full  house!  Of  sterling  character 
and  rugged  sease,  her  influence  was  always 
good.  Truly  was  she  a  maker  of  the  west  — 
one  of  thousands  of  devoted  and  capable 
women  whose  lives  have  built  so  many  great 
and  prosperous  western  states. 

Aunty  Stone's  niece,  Mrs.  Harris  Stratton, 
still  living,  ably  seconded  her  aunt's  efforts, 
and  many  a  family  was  aided  by  her  counsel, 
cheer  and  sympathy  in  the  early  days  and 
since.  Mrs.  Harris  writes:  "When  I  first 
taught  school  here,  in  1865,  the  windows  used 
to  be  filled  with  the  faces  of  friendly  Indians 
looking  in  wonderingly."  These  were  Arapa- 
hoes,  who  were  subsisted  at  the  fort.  Their 
chief  was  Friday,  who  had  been  educated  at 
St.  Louis.  "  Friday's  squaw  showed  her  baby 
to  me.  Its  entire  wardrobe  was  a  lovely  robe 
of  antelope  skin,  soft  as  satin,  and  embroid- 
ered with  blue  and  white  beads." 

WATER  TREATMENT 
i^N^ote  21,  page  46 ) 

for  wounds  and  diseases  has  made  great  ad- 
vances in  the  last  thirty  years.  Still  greater 
has  been  the  progress  in  antisepsis.  Yet  for 
many  forms  of  bruises,  no  method  today  is 
better  than  the  simple  one  described  on  page 
46,  which  did  its  work  so  well  that  the  hand 
thus  saved  is  still  absolutely  perfect. 

"TENDERFOOT" 
{^Note  22,  page  ^7 ) 

a  derisive  term  applied  by  old  settlers  gener- 
ally to  newcomers  not  yet  acquainted  with 
the  ways  of  the  c*ountry  or  toughened  to 
frontier  life.  Of  late  years,  the  word  has  lost 
the  asperity  of  its  early  meaning,  and  is  now 
employed  to  indicate  one  not  long  in  the  com- 
munity, without  in  any  manner  thereby  neces- 
sarily reflecting  upon  him. 


MARIANA  MEDINA 

{Note  2j,  page  48) 

while  still  alive,  claimed  to  be  "  the  first  white 
man  "  to  have  settled  on  the  Big  Thompson. 
This  was  prior  to  1860.  But  he  was  of  mixed 
Spanish  and  Indian  blood,  a  "greaser"  rather 
than  a  white  man,  and  his  "  Wifie  John"  was 
a  full-blooded  Arapahoe  Indian.  He  was 
familiarly  known  as  "Old  Mary  Ann,"  a 
name  that  still  lingers.  After  the  death  of 
his  Wifie  John,  several  other  squaws  had  fol- 
lowed her,  none  of  them  proving  of  enough 
value  to  be  retained,  until  Medina  bought  a 
white  wife  from  one  of  the  early  settlers, 
paying  for  her  with  whiskey.  Settlers  were 
now  becoming  numerous,  and  they  insisted 
upon  a  formal  marriage.  With  the  woman, 
Medina  accepted  two  of  her  children,  a  boy 
large  enough  to  be  of  some  use,  and  a  little 
girl,  whom  Medina  tired  of  after  a  few  days 
and  threw  her  into  the  creek,  from  which  she 
was  rescued  by  an  old  Irish  woman  living 
near,  who  adopted  her.  Medina  was  very 
fond  of  his  own  daughter  by  "Wifie  John," 
sent  her  to  the  Catholic  convent  in  Denver  to 
be  educated,  and  boasted  he  would  make  a 
fine  lady  of  her,  but  while  at  the  convent  she 
sickened  and  died.  He  never  forgave  the 
priests  for  her  death,  and  when  he  himself  lay 
dying  would  regard  neither  candle  nor  crucifix, 
host  nor  sacrament. 


PRESERVING  LIFE  IN  BLIZZARDS 

(Auite  24,  page  48) 

The  instance  here  referred  to  was  an  actual 
occurrence.  Cowboys  who  have  practiced  the 
same  thing  in  more  than  one  instance  have 
been  frozen  to  death.  When  Indians  are  lost 
in  a  blizzard  they  sometimes  lie  down  where 
the  snow  is  drifting  heavily,  stretch  coat  or 
blanket  over  their  head,  and  are  quickly 
covered  deep  with  snow.  There  is  enough  air 
in  the  snow  covering  to  keep  them  alive,  they 
go  to  sleep,  and  if  it  is  not  so  cold  as  to  freeze 
the  body  (which  is  seldom  the  case  when  snow- 
covered)  wake  up  after  the  storm  is  over,  when 
they  gradually  dig  their  way  out.  White  men 
keep  walking  if  lost  in  a  blizzard.  Live  stock 
"drift"  before  the  storm,  much  as  an  unman- 


BANCROFT 
LIBRARY 


196 


ADDENDA 


ageable  ship  is  blown  helpless  before  the  gale, 
until  they  tan  no  longer  walk,  when  they  lie 
down  to  die.  It  is  almost  impossible  to  change 
the  direction  of  a  large  herd  that  is  drifting 
helplessly  and  recklessly  before  the  blizzard. 
Immense  losses  of  cattle  and  sheep,  left  to 
graze  on  the  range,  are  often  caused  by  these 
blizzards,  so  much  so  that  the  range  system  is 
rapidly  giving  way  to  the  more  intensive  and 
more  profitable  method  of  winter  feeding  in 
corrals,  sheds  and  barns.  Cheyenne  and  Ute 
Indians,  if  caught  in  a  blizzard,  throw  their 
trappings  in  a  pile  and  tramp  around  the  heap 
all  night,  rather  than  run  the  risk  of  being 
lost  in  the  storm. 

THE  TERM  ••GREASER" 

{Note  2S,  page  4g) 

is  usually  applied  contemptuously  to  "low- 
down  "  Mexicans,  or  Spanish-American  degen- 
erates. The  typical  greaser  perhaps  has  more 
Indian  than  Spanish  or  Mexican  blood,  and 
combines  the  worst  elements  of  all  three  races. 
He  is  vindictive,  traitorous,  irresponsible, 
given  to  thievery  and  murder.  He  takes  to 
stealing  horses  as  a  negro  does  to  stealing 
chickens.  To  apply  this  term  to  a  Mexican 
gentleman  is  to  offer  a  deadly  insult.  The 
mass  of  Mexicans  and  peons  do  not  share  the 
characteristics  of  the  greaser,  however,  though 
often  included  under  that  appellation  by  quite 
intelligent  Americans  who  should  know  better. 

"THE  HANGING  BEE" 

{A'ote  26,  page  5/ ) 

was  a  necessity  in  the  old  times  when  horses 
roaming  the  prairies  were  so  attractive  to 
thieves  that  capital  punishment  was  the  only 
protection  for  owners  of  this  form  of  valuable 
property.  The  horse  thief  was  hanged  without 
trial  or  mercy,  and  with  the  utmost  prompt- 
ness, yet  seldom  so  quickly  as  to  preclude  a 
large  attendance.  To  what  extent  is  this 
rough-and-ready  administration  of  justice  on 
the  frontier  responsible  for  the  present  day 
habit  of  negro  lynching? 

THE  UTILIZATION  OF  UPLANDS 

{iVote  zy,  page  j/ ) 

and  mesas  is  comparatively  recent  in  the  irri- 
gated west.     The  valleys  proved  fertile  when 


watered,  but  to  this  day,  the  adjacent  upland 
mesas  are  thought  to  be  worthless  in  many 
sections.  If  irrigated,  or  even  if  favored  with 
only  a  few  inches  of  rain,  these  uplands  usually 
yield  large  and  profitable  crops. 

THE  GREELEY  COLONY 

{Note  28,  page  S3) 

was  founded  by  Horace  Greeley,  about  1870, 
soon  after  uttering  his  famous  dictum,  "Go 
west,  young  man,  and  grow  up  with  the  coun- 
try." In  1874,  the  town  had  fine  brick  school- 
houses  and  a  tax  of  $55  upon  each  $1000  of 
assessed  valuation !  The  deed  to  every  foot  of 
land  specifies  that  title  shall  be  null  and  void  if 
liquor  is  sold  thereon.  Which  reminds  me 
that  the  only  man  that  ever  made  large  prof- 
its there,  in  those  early  days,  was  an  ingen- 
ious Yankee  who  invented  a  non-alcoholic 
pop,  in  color  to  match  any  liquor,  and  sold 
it  at  five  cents  a  glass  —  couldn't  supp'y  the 
demand!  Greeley  is  now  a  thriving  little 
city,  famous  for  its  potatoes  and  beet  sugar, 
still  more  remarkable  for  its  good  citizens  and 
happy  homes,  and  notable  for  the  general 
prosperity  of  all  its  people,  few  rich,  none 
poor.  "  The  Greeley  idea "  has  proven  suc- 
cessful, and  has  been  imitated  with  more  or 
less  success  by  many  other  colonies  in  vari- 
ous sections. 

HIGH  INTEREST  RATES 

{Note  2g, page 37) 

From  five  per  cent  per  month  down  to  two 
per  cent  per  month  were  the  interest  rates  for 
loans  on  ranches,  cattle  or  chattels,  in  the 
early  settlement  of  the  west,  1860  to  1880. 
To  borrow  usually  meant  bankruptcy.  The 
Younts'  bank  afterward  "  busted "  because  it 
had  to  foreclose  on  a  vast  amount  of  lands  for 
which  there  was  no  sale  except  at  ruinous 
prices,  until  better  times  and  cheaper  money 
restored  agricultural  prosperity.  This  reminds 
me  that  when  I  first  revisited  Fort  Collins,  in 
1894,  the  silver  craze  being  at  its  height,  an 
old  friend  criticised  my  monetary  views  and 
said  vehemently :  "  The  gold  standard  is  kill- 
ing us  —  why,  we  have  to  pay  six  or  seven  per 
cent  per  annum  on  farm  mortages,  and  no 
farmer  can  stand  that."  He  owned  up  beaten 
when  I  remarked  that  a  policv  which  in  twenty 


ADDENDA 


197 


years  had  reduced  the  interest  rate  from  three 
per  cent  a  month  to  six  per  cent  a  year  was  a 
pretty  good  one  to  tie  to. 

GRUB  STAKES 

{Note  ^o,  page  ^7) 

is  the  term  applied  to  the  outfit  of  a  miner, 
prospector  or  traveler  into  an  unknown  region. 
The  miner  needs  sufficient  food  or  grub  to 
support  him  and  his  burro,  mule  or  horse, 
until  he  has  found  a  prospect  worth  staking  out 
or  laying  claim  to.  Then  he  must  be  supported 
until  he  has  developed  the  mine  sufficiently 
to  prove  its  value.  The  person  who  supplies 
the  grub  stakes  usually  furnishes  a  minimum 
supply  for  a  maximum  consideration  —  that 
is,  in  return  for  supplying  the  outfit  he  is  to 
have  say  a  half  interest  or  more  in  what- 
ever property  or  prospect  the  miner  locates. 
This  agreement  is  seldom  in  writing,  but  is 
usually  lived  up  to  with  scrupulous  exactness. 
It  can  be  enforced  in  western  courts  to  the 
very  last  extremity.  To  "go  back  on"  the 
man  who  has  grubstaked  you  is  to  put  your- 
self outside  the  pale  of  self-respecting  men. 

THE  CURIOUS  THINGS 

(^Note  J  I,  page  62 ) 

men  do  in  a  rush  for  a  new  gold  claim  are  on 
a  par  with  their  actions  at  a  fire.  The  passes 
into  Alaska,  during  the  rush  a  few  years  ago, 
were  strewn  with  all  manner  of  useless  articles 
left  by  those  who  had  foolishly  overburdened 
themselves  with  non-essentials.  Rocker's  at- 
tempt to  go  to  the  Black  Hills  with  a  drug 
store  was  not  as  crazy  as  many  other  efforts. 
He  got  back  alive,  which  is  more  than  could 
be  said  of  some. 

THE  ROUND-UP 

(Note  j2,  page  8_5) 

in  earlier  times,  was  often  an  occasion  of 
unlicensed  deviltry.  Early  in  the  seventies, 
the  Colorado  legislature  enacted  statutes  to 
regulate  the  round-up.  These  laws  still  exist 
in  some  of  the  other  range  states.  One  of  the 
best  brief  descriptions  of  the  round-up  is  given 
in  Sarah  Elizabeth  Howard's  book,  "  Pen 
Pictures  of  the  Plains." 


The  Round-up 

The  lovely  days  of  spring  have  clothed  the 

plains 
With  fresh,  sweet  grass,  and  spread  a  welcome 

feast 
Before  the  wandering  herds.     The  cattlemen 
Prepare  to  "  round  "  their  creatures  "  up,"  and 

learn 
The  loss  or  profit  of  the  year.     For  weeks. 
The  country  to  be  traversed,  and  the  place 
To  meet  each  day  with  gathered   herds,  has 

been 
Decided  on,  and  advertised,  that  all 
The  owners  with  their  men  may  gather  where 
Their   cattle    range,   and   do   their  share   of 

work, — 
And  claim  and   brand   their  property.      One 

man  — 
A  chosen  captain  —  plans  and  orders  all. 
From  every  side  they  come,  with  ponies  fleet 
Of  foot,  and   trained   to  hold  tlie  struggling 

beasts 
When  riders'  ropes  have  checked  their  utmost 

flight; 
With  cowboys  skilled  in  throwing  lariats, 
And   reading    brands   obscure,   or    tampered 

with; 
With  men  to  cook  and  drive  the  wagons,  filled 
With  blankets  and  with  food  supplies,  to  each 
Day's  camping   place;    with  irons   that  shall 

brand 
The  owner's  undisputed  claim  upon 
The  luckless  calf. 

Prepared  to  live  upon 
The   plains   for   weeks, —  to   sleep   upon    the 

ground 
In  blankets  wrapped,  these  hardy  plainsmen  go 
Far  to  the  eastern  limit  of  the  range 
Their  cattle  feed  upon,  and  "  round  them  up  " 
By  sending  riders  on  a  circuit  wide. 
To  gather  every  animal  that  shows 
A  brand  belonging  to  the  men  for  whom 
They  work.     A  camping  place  is  chosen  where 
They  wish  to   have   the  first  day's   round-up 

brought, 
And  there  the  cook  is  found,  prepared  to  feed 
The  hungry  men. 

The  first  red  streak  of  dawn 
Is  signal  for  the  start,  and  silently 
The  horsemen  vanish  on  their  tiring  quest, 
Each,  with  his  ground  to  cover  pointed  out. 
The  river  flows  upon  the  south, —  seme  search 
Its  banks :  another  party  follow  up 
A  tributary  stream,  ana  others  s<-our 
The  distant  bluffs,  and  all  the  land  between. 
Well  past  the  hour  of  noon,  the  cowboys  with 
The  herd  appear,  and  men  detailed  for  their 
Relief  ride  out  to  guard  the  band,  while  they 
Who  gathered  them,  refresh  the  inner  man. 
Again,  a  mammoth  stage,  and  actors  skilled. 
Around  a  smouldering  fire  a  group  of  men 
Are  heating  irons,  each  of  which  shall  sear 


198 


ADDENDA 


Upon  the  owner's  living  property 

Its   quaint    device.      The   mounted  cowboys, 

spurred, 
With  lariats  in  hand,  dash  in  among 
The  herd,  and  singling  out  the  animals 
They  want, —  give  chase.     The  race  is  short, 

the  rope 
Well    thrown,  soon   stops  a  creature's  flight. 

Half  dragged, 
Half  running,  it  is  quickly  taken  where 
The  branders  wait   to  do  their  work.      Each 

man 
Keeps  tally  of  the  calves  he  brands,  and  so 
The  census  of  the  bovine  family 
That  roams  the  plains,  is  taken.     Animals 
No  longer  wanted  are  turned  back  upon 
The  range  from  whence  they  came ;  those  held 

as  beeves. 
Or  held  to  drive  upon  some  other  range. 
Must   be  well   guarded,  day  and   night,   and 

men 
Take  turns  at  that.      With  little  change  the 

work 
Goes    on   from   day  to   day.      Each  camping 

place 
Is  chosen  for  the  chance  it  furnishes 
Of  water  for  the  men  and  animals 
And  well  for  them  if  it  may  be  a  clear 
And  flowing  stream. 

This  hard  exciting  life 
Is  lived,  until  the  prairies  have  been  scoured 
From  Julesburg  to  the  mountain  towns,  and 

well 
Across  Wyoming's  line.     Disbanded  then. 
The  round-up  waits  another  call. 

MONK,  JULES,  SLADE 

k^^'o^iSS^P'^g^  94) 

Hank  Monk,  the  redoubtable  western  stage 
driver  immortalized  in  Mark  Twain's  "  Rough- 
ing It."  The  same  book  also  gives  a  charac- 
terization of  Slade.  His  torture  of  Jules  was 
as  described  on  page  9.S.  None  dared  to  bury 
Jules'  body,  and  it  was  torn  to  pieces  by  wolves. 
Jules'  wife  lost  her  mind  as  a  result.  The 
latter  incident  is  the  subject  of  the  poem 
"The  Trail,"  in  Marion  Muir  Richardson's 
"  Border  Memories." 

PLUM  CREEK  MASSACRE 

{Note 34,  page  g4) 

on  the  Union  Pacific  railroad  in  Nebraska,  in 
1866.  After  capturing  a  freight  train  there, 
1500  armed  Indians  plundered  and  burned  it, 
stuffing  the  fireman  alive  into  his  firebox. 
The  engineer  was  shot  and  scalped,  but  was 


nursed  back  to  life  by  Mrs.  John  J.  Bush,  now 
of  Liverraore,  Colorado.  She  was  en  route 
to  join  her  husband  on  the  first  passenger  train 
to  reach  Plum  Creek  after  the  massacre.  The 
train  was  guarded  by  forty  soldiers,  who  held 
the  Indians  at  bay  until  help  arrived.  While 
she  was  nursing  the  engineer  in  the  passenger 
car  (in  which  she  was  locked,  to  be  shot  by 
the  soldiers  rather  than  fall  into  the  hands  of 
the  savages),  the  Indians  held  a  war  dance 
about  her  car,  dressed  in  finery  from  her  own 
trunk,  and  maliciously  waved  the  fresh  scalp 
from  a  murdered  woman  in  tcken  of  the  fate 
that  awaited  her.  After  the  rescue  by  a  com- 
pany of  soldiers,  Mrs.  Bush  pushed  right  on 
west,  taking  the  first  stage  to  go  out  after  the 
massacre,  and  being  strapped  on  so  that  she 
would  not  be  jolted  off"  or  shot  off.  She  is  a 
type  of  the  dauntless  women  pioneers  who 
braved  everything  to  develop  the  west.  Mr. 
Bush  is  a  prominent  citizen,  and  in  1904  the 
couple  celebrated  their  fifty-fifth  wedding 
anniversary. 

ABNER  LOOMIS 

{Note  3^,  page  g-j) 

is  a  type  of  the  pioneers  who  have  made  the 
west.  Born  in  New  York  in  1829,  educated 
in  an  Ohio  log  schoolhouse,  youthhood  in 
young  Iowa,  overland  to  California  in  1850, 


ABNER  LOOMIS 


mining  there  for  ten  years,  drawn  to  Colorado 
in  1860  by  the  Pike's  Peak  excitement,  finally 
settling    in    the    Poudre    valley    that    year. 


ADDENDA 


199 


Ranchman,  farmer,  Indian  fighter,  freighter 
acToss  tlie  plains  and  into  the  mountains, 
cattle  raiser  on  a  big  scale,  a  large  landed 
proprietor,  merchant,  banker,  he  wjis  early 
prominent  in  the  formation,  as  he  has  been 
almost  ever  since  in  the  government  of  the 
county  that  he  has  done  so  much  to  develop. 
Too  modest  to  rim  for  the  state  senate,  a  life- 
long democrat,  he  says :  "  I  never  vote  a 
straight  ticket,  and  want  to  be  whipped  if  I 
ever  bind  myself  to  vote  as  any  party  dictates." 
He  is  the  "  real  thing." 

DIED  WITH  HIS  BOOTS  ON 

(A'oie  j6,  page  joj ) 

"  To  die  with  his  boots  on  "  was  considered  a 
disgrace  among  desperadoes,  as  indicating  that 
one's  antagonist  was  the  superior.  Either  he 
shot  first  or  more  surely,  or  in  some  way  got 
the  advantage  that  killed  his  enemy  suddenly. 
A  western  desperado  started  out  to  "  do  up " 
a  man,  but  the  latter  "  got  the  drop  on  "  him 
and  mortally  wounded  him;  as  his  friends 
rashed  to  him,  the  dying  man  groaned  "  pull 
off  ray  boots,  boys,"  his  last  thought  being  to 
avoid  this  disgrace. 

In  the  army,  on  the  contrary,  to  die  with 
one's  boots  on  is  considered  an  honor,  as  show- 
ing that  the  soldier  did  his  duty  like  a  hero. 
In  the  wars  against  the  Indians,  the  soldier 
who  was  found  to  have  been  killed  by  falling 
backward  as  he  was  shot  squarely  from  the 
front,  was  often  eulogized  by  his  comrades  as 
one  who  "died  with  his  boots  to  the  foe." 

My  record  of  264  "  bad "  men  who  infested 
the  far  west  between  1860  and  1885,  reveals 
the  singular  fact  that  up  to  1905  all  but  thirty 
of  them  had  "  died  with  their  boots  on,"  that 
is,  had  met  violent  deaths.  Of  the  thirty,  only 
four  are  now  living  —  one  a  reverend  gentle- 
man, whose  success  as  a  preacher  is  his  method 
of  atonement,  another  is  a  circuit  judge  of 
distinction,  the  third  is  a  paralytic  living  in 
retirement,  and  the  fourth  is  an  honest  God- 
fearing laboring  man. 

CONSUMPTION  OR  TUBERCULOSIS 

(Note  j7,  page  104 ) 

Thirty  years  ago,  and  much  more  recently 
also,  it  was  the  custom  for  consumptives  to  stay 


at  home  in  the  east  until  incurably  diseased, 
and  then  to  seek  Colorado  only  to  die.  Yet 
even  a  goodly  percentage  of  these  recovered. 
I  remember  a  young  man  who  had  terrible 
hemorrhages  of  the  lungs  for  three  days  after 
his  arrival  at  Fort  Collins,  but  on  the  fourth 
day  Was  carried  out  miles  onto  the  prairie, 
given  a  few  provisions,  and  left  in  charge  of  a 
bunch  of  sheep.  He  came  back  to  town  four 
months  later,  the  picture  of  health,  rose  to  be 
attorney-general  of  the  state  and  later  went 
to  congress.  Of  late  years,  the  profession  and 
the  laity  have  come  to  recognize  the  impor- 
tance of  applying  the  climate  treatment  and 
outdoor  life  in  the  very  earliest  stages  of  the 
disease,  also  of  having  due  regard  for  altitude, 
humidity  and  environment  in  different  phases 
of  consumption  and  with  different  tempera- 
ments. The  treatment  of  tuberculosis  has 
certainly  made  vast  improvement  since  1875, 
and  the  time  may  yet  come  when  "  the  great 
white  plague "  will  be  as  much  a  matter  of 
history  as  is  now  the  black  death  of  the 
middle  ages. 

SOIL  EXHAUSTION 

(A'otejS,  page  loj ) 

It  was  then  believed  that,  under  irrigation, 
the  soil  was  inexhaustible  —  an  idea  that  still 
prevails.  Less  than  twenty-five  years  ago, 
stable  manure  was  burned  or  dumped  upon 
the  ice  of  the  Cache  la  Poudre,  just  as  was 
done  earlier  in  the  Genesee  valley  of  New 
York.  Now  plant  food  is  at  a  premium  in 
both  sections.  The  average  yield  of  wheat 
in  the  Poudre  valley  for  the  past  six  years 
appears  to  have  been  only  about  half  as  much 
as  the  crops  in  the  early  seventies.  This  in 
spite  of  the  unusual  percentage  of  potash  in 
the  irrigation  waters  of  that  section. 

CLIMATE  AND  CHANGES  IN  IT 

{Note  3g,  page  loj) 

The  nights  were  dry  in  the  early  seventies, 
without  dew,  before  irrigation  became  gen- 
eral. Now  the  dews  are  often  heavy  about 
Fort  Collins  and  the  evening  air  quite  humid. 
Culture  of  the  soil  and  irrigating  certainly 
ameliorate  the  climate.      If  accompanied  by 


200 


ADDENDA 


tree  planting,  the  increase  in  crop  production 
without  artificial  irrigation  is  marked  in  sec- 
tions that  were  entirely  arid  years  ago.  A 
certain  school  of  scientists  have  denied  this, 
but  the  evidence  in  its  favor  has  now  become 
overwhelming.  Thus  vast  areas  between  the 
f»5th  and  the  105th  meridian  have  been  mod- 
ified into  a  desirable  agricultural  country 
during  the  past  thirty  and  forty  years. 

IDENTITY  AND  ANTECEDENTS 

{Note  40,  page  11 1 ) 

The  people  of  the  west  accept  men  and 
women  at  face  value,  for  what  they  are. 
They  don't  care  who  your  ancestors  were,  or 
what  your  pedigree  may  be  —  you  yourself 
must  stand  upon  your  own  merits,  and  by  this 
measure  only  are  people  gauged  in  the  west. 
This  is  in  marked  contrast  to  the  east  and 
south,  where  family  and  social  position  still 
create  artificial  conditions.  Many  a  man  who 
has  committed  some  indiscretion  that  might 
keep  him  down  if  he  stayed  at  the  east  or 
south,  has  sought  a  new  field  in  the  broad  and 
generous  west,  and  there  has  achieved  char- 
acter, usefulness,  fame  and  fortune. 

ALFALFA  ( Medicago  sativa ) 

{Note  41,  page  120 ) 

one  of  the  clover 
family,  a  most  im- 
portant economic 
plant.  It  grows  so 
rapidly  upon  good 
soil  when  irrigated 
as  to  yield  from  two 
to  eight  cuttings  per 
year  in  the  south- 
west, each  yielding 
one  to  three  tons  of 
hay  per  acre.  It  is 
rich  in  nitrogenous 
matter    (protein), 

and  therefore  most  desirable  feed  for  live 
stock,  either  green  or  cured.  Alfalfa  has 
remarkable  powers  of  assimilating  nitrogen 
from  the  air  in  the  soil  and  from  the  atmos- 
phere, through  the  agency  of  nitrifying  bac- 
teria that  thrive  in  minute  nodules  upon  its 
roots.      This   explains  why  land   upon  which 


alfalfa  is  grown  increases  in  richness  and  pro- 
ductivity. Like  the  other  clovers,  it  will  not 
thrive  in  the  absence  of  these  bacteria.  Al- 
falfa bacteria  are  now  sold  in  a  form  available 
for  application  to  either  the  seed  or  the  soil, 
and  when  these  germs  are  present,  alfalfa 
seems  to  adapt  itself  to  soil  and  climate 
throughout  the  United  States.  While  slow  to 
start,  once  well  rooted  its  roots  will  go  great 
distances  (twenty-five  to  seventy  feet)  in  search 
of  water  to  withstand  drouths,  yet  it  does  not 
thrive  with  "  wet  feet." 

EVIDENCE  OF  WITNESSES  DEAD 
OR  ABSENT 

{Note  42,  page  12^ ) 

Evidence  given  at  a  former  trial  of  the 
same  action,  whether  civil  or  criminal,  in- 
volving the  same  issues  and  between  the  same 
parties,  is  admissible  when  it  is  shown  the 
witness  is  dead,  insane,  deathly  ill  or  is  kept 
out  of  the  way  by  the  adverse  party,  or  per- 
haps when  he  cannot  be  found. 

Who  may  testify  —Anyone  who  heard  the 
former  testimony  may  give  evidence  as  to 
what  was  said.     Emery  v.  Fowler,  3  Me.  326. 

As  for  instance  an  attorney.  Earl  v.  Tupper, 
45  Vt.  275. 

The  witness  need  state  only  the  substance 
of  the  testimony.  Lime  Rock  Bank  v. 
Hewett,  52  Me.  531;  Emery  v.  Fowler,  39 
Me.  326 ;  Wung  v.  Dearborn,  22  N.  H.  377 ; 
Marsh  v.  Jones,  21  Vt.  378;  Williams  v. 
Willard,  23  Vt.  369;  Johnson  v.  Powers, 
40  Vt.  611. 

The  witness  who  relates  the  former  testi- 
mony must  give  substantially  the  language 
used.  Woods  v.  Keyes,  14  Allen,  238;  War- 
ren V.  Nichols,  6  Mete.  267 ;  Corey  v.  Janes,  15 
Gray,  545;  Com.  v.  Richards,  18  Bick.  434; 
Yale  V.  Comstock,  112  Mass.  267. 

Anyone  who  heard  the  former  testimony 
may  give  evidence  as  to  what  was  said. 
Woods  v.  Keyes,  14  Allen,  236. 

The  opinion  of  Judge  Drummond,  U.  S. 
district  judge  for  the  district  of  Illinois  in 
the  case  of  the  United  States  v.  Moscomb,  re- 
ported in  5  McLean,  page  286,  is  very  much 
to  the  point.  This  opinion  was  rendered  in 
1851. 


ADDENDA 


201 


So  is  the  opinion  of  Justice  Bushrod  Wash- 
ington, one  of  the  a,s8ociate  justices  of  the 
supreme  court  of  the  United  States,  in  the 
case  of  United  States  v.  Wood  decided  in 
1818,  reported  in  3  Washington  (U.  S.)  page 
440.  This  case  was  decided  by  him  when 
holding  court  as  circuit  justice  in  the  third 
circuit  of  Pennsylvania.  Following  is  a  brief 
report  of  this  case : 

The  prisoner  was  indicted  for  robbing  the 
United  States  mail,  putting  the  life  of  the 
carrier  in  jeopardy  by  means  of  a  dangerous 
weapon.  Joseph  Hare,  a  witness  in  the  former 
trial,  had  died.  Another  witness  now  offered 
to  prove  what  Hare  had  sworn  to  at  the 
former  trial.  This  was  objected  to.  Judge 
Washington's  exact  language  on  the  question 
was:  "This  evidence  is  admissible,  provided 
the  witness  can  repeat  the  testimony  which 
Hare  gave,  and  not  merely  what  he  conceives 
to  be  the  substance  and  effect  of  it,  of  which 
the  jury  ought  alone  to  be  the  judge.  He 
may  refresh  his  memory  from  notes  which  he 
took  of  the  evidence  at  the  trial,  or  from  a 
newspaper  printed  by  himself,  containing  the 
evidence  of  Hare  as  taken  down  by  the  wit- 
ness, but  he  must  be  sure  of  the  accuracy  of 
the  statement  from  his  own  recollections." 

Another  case  in  point,  decided  by  the 
United  States  supreme  court  in  1878  (three 
years  after  the  trial  referred  to  in  the  text), 
was  that  of  Ruch  v.  Rock  Island. 

In  Yale  v.  Comstock,  112  Mass.  267,  Jus- 
tice Morton  of  the  Massachusetts  supreme 
court  said:  "The  court  found,  and  it  is  not 
disputed,  that  one  of  the  issues  in  the  former 
suits  was  the  same  as  one  of  the  issues  in  this 
suit.  Brace  being  dead,  his  testimony  at  the 
former  trial  upon  this  issue  was  competent. 
It  has  been  held  with  great  strictness  in  this 
commonwealth,  that  the  witness  called  to 
prove  what  a  deceased  witness  testified  in  a 
former  trial  must  be  able  to  state  the  language 
in  which  the  former  testimony  was  given 
substantially  and  in  all  material  particulars. 
Warren  v.  Nichols,  6  Met.  271." 

RAIN-IN-THE-FACE 

{A'oie  43^ pages  14J,  163) 
Ls  one  of  the  few  surviving  leaders  among  the 
Indians  who  were  responsible  for  the  Custer 


tragedy.  Sitting  Bull,  the  Sioux  medicine- 
man, the  reputed  organizer  of  the  Indian 
forces  that  lured  Custer's  command  to  their 
death,  was  killed  at  his  log  hut  on  Grand 
River,  South  Dakota,  13  December  1890, 
while  resisting  arrest  by  a  detachment  of 
Sioux  Indian  police.  The  Indians  never  told 
the  full  trutli  about  the  Custer  battle,  but  the 
real  facts  about  that  great  mystery  of  the 
centennial  year  are  to  be  made  known  to  the 
world  by  the  writer.  (See  "Acknowledg- 
ments," page  16.)  The  truth  about  this  matter 
has  not  even  been  guessed  at,  is  extraordinary 
in  its  nature  and  of  most  absorbing  interest. 

CUSTER'S  LETTER 

{Note  44,  page  IJ2 ) 

here  quoted,  was  actually  written  22  June 
1876,  just  before  leaving  for  the  march  to 
what  proved  to  be  his  last  battlefield,  25  June 
1876,  on  the  Little  Big  Horn.  Scene  I  of 
this  Part  III  is  supposed  to  have  occurred 
about  2  or  3  June.  The  letter  on  page  153  is 
entirely  fictitious,  and  so  are  some  of  the  in- 
cidents recited  in  connection  therewith,  yet 
on  the  Black  Hills  expedition  in  1874,  sum- 
mary punishment  was  meted  out  to  more  than 
one  deserter  with  even  less  formality  than  the 
courtmartial  referred  to  in  this  scene.  It 
was  required  in  order  to  prevent  the  soldiers 
deserting  to  the  gold  camps,  and  to  maintain 
the  military  authority,  without  which  even 
the  command  itself  might  have  been  annihi- 
lated by  Indians. 

«'I  ALONE  ESCAPED' 

{Note  4S,  page  17s) 

It  is  true  that  a  Crow  Indian,  Curley,  a 
scout  with  Custer's  command,  escaped  from 
the  battlefield.  All  that  the  world  now  knows 
about  the  great  tragedy  is  from  Curley's  dis- 
connected tale,  and  from  partial  and  inaccurate 
statements  made  by  Rain-in-the-Face,  Sitting 
Bull,  Chief  Gall,  and  Two  Moon.  As  a  matter 
of  fact,  Curley  fled  from  the  scene  so  early  in 
the  engagement  that  little  credence  can  be 
placed  in  the  statements  he  made  a  few  days 
after  the  battle.  I  have  satisfied  myself  that 
Curley's  remarks  then  and  since  about  the 


202 


ADDENDA 


battle  were  quite  erroneous.  For  nearly  thirty 
years  this  Indian  has  posed  as  the  only  one 
of  Custer's  friends  who  escaped  from  the  fearful 
tragedy,  and  he  has  evidently  been  sincere  in 
this  opinion.     Cur  ley  now  lives  on  a  fine  ranch 


of  his  own  near  Crow  Agency,  Montana,  and 
naturally  has  become  increasingly  conceited 
with  advancing  years.  The  portrait  is  from 
a  photo  by  D.  F.  Barry  taken  in  1886,  on  the 
tenth  anniversary  of  the  Custer  fight. 


CuELET,  "  I  Aloxe  Escaped  ' 


